#The shit evolution gets away with

[deep-sea-scholar]

HE SKRUNKLE

[words-writ-in-starlight]

"Thank God this is the country where bribery can do anything" Jonathan Harker says, like half the dock workers in England aren't going to have to list him on their taxes as a major source of income

[front-facing-pokemon]

[evaningotham]

i know like 97% of brucie wayne headcanons focus around bruce and the kids h a t i n g the brucie persona

but its so much more fun for me to imagine them absolutely loving it

like bruce gets to be as big of a dumbass as he wants with no repercussions?

i like to think he does shit to imitate/make fun of other celebrities but practically no one gets the joke bc they think brucies just Like That

theater kid jason watches in awe at the character his dads perfected and starts work on his own persona immediately

life long performer dickie grayson wayne looks at the whole thing as a show and the world is his stage

tim just fully leans into the kid genius thing and infodumps any chance he gets, you get i to a conversation with him and walk away knowing about the evolution of different bugs in egypt

cass plays the shy quiet girl but its so obvious she has all of her brothers wrapped around her finger

damian is the worst at it, but takes it SO SERIOUSLY, the entire thing is a mission to him

duke just acts super grateful to be invited all while the rest of the family knows he’d rather be literally anywhere else

[intheholler]

the appalachian murder ballad <3 one of the most interesting elements of americana and american folk, imo!

my wife recently gave me A Look when i had one playing in the car and she was like, "why do all of these old folk songs talk about killing people lmao" and i realized i wanted to Talk About It at length.

nerd shit under the cut, and it's long. y'all been warned

so, as y'all probably know, a lot of appalachian folk music grew its roots in scottish folk (and then was heavily influenced by Black folks once it arrived here, but that's a post for another time).

they existed, as most folk music does, to deliver a narrative--to pass on a story orally, especially in communities where literacy was not widespread. their whole purpose was to get the news out there about current events, and everyone loves a good murder mystery!

as an aside, i saw someone liken the murder ballad to a ye olde true crime podcast and tbh, yeah lol.

the "original" murder ballads started back across the pond as news stories printed on broadsheets and penned in such a way that it was easy to put to melody.

they were meant to be passed on and keep the people informed about the goings-on in town. i imagine that because these songs were left up to their original orators to get them going, this would be why we have sooo many variations of old folk songs.

naturally then, almost always, they were based on real events, either sung from an outside perspective, from the killer's perspective and in some cases, from the victim's. of course, like most things from days of yore, they reek of social dogshit. the particular flavor of dogshit of the OG murder ballad was misogyny.

so, the murder ballad came over when the english and scots-irish settlers did. in fact, a lot of the current murder ballads are still telling stories from centuries ago, and, as is the way of folk, getting rewritten and given new names and melodies and evolving into the modern recordings we hear today.

305 such scottish and english ballads were noted and collected into what is famously known as the Child Ballads collected by a professor named francis james child in the 19th century. they have been reshaped and covered and recorded a million and one times, as is the folk way.

while newer ones continued to largely fit the formula of retelling real events and murder trials (such as one of my favorite ones, little sadie, about a murderer getting chased through the carolinas to have justice handed down), they also evolved into sometimes fictional, (often unfortunately misogynistic) cautionary tales.

perhaps the most famous examples of these are omie wise and pretty polly where the woman's death almost feels justified as if it's her fault (big shocker).

but i digress. in this way, the evolution of the murder ballad came to serve a similar purpose as the spooky legends of appalachia did/do now.

(why do we have those urban legends and oral traditions warning yall out of the woods? to keep babies from gettin lost n dying in them. i know it's a fun tiktok trend rn to tell tale of spooky scary woods like there's really more haints out here than there are anywhere else, but that's a rant for another time too ain't it)

so, the aforementioned little sadie (also known as "bad lee brown" in some cases) was first recorded in the 1920s. i'm also plugging my favorite female-vocaist cover of it there because it's superior when a woman does it, sorry.

it is a pretty straightforward murder ballad in its content--in the original version, the guy kills a woman, a stranger or his girlfriend sometimes depending on who is covering it.

but instead of it being a cautionary 'be careful and don't get pregnant or it's your fault' tale like omie wise and pretty polly, the guy doesn't get away with it, and he's not portrayed as sympathetic like the murderer is in so many ballads.

a few decades after, women started saying fuck you and writing their own murder ballads.

in the 40s, the femme fatale trope was in full swing with women flipping the script and killing their male lovers for slights against them instead.

men began to enter the "find out" phase in these songs and paid up for being abusive partners. women regained their agency and humanity by actually giving themselves an active voice instead of just being essentially 'fridged in the ballads of old.

her majesty dolly parton even covered plenty of old ballads herself but then went on to write the bridge, telling the pregnant-woman-in-the-murder-ballad's side of things for once. love her.

as a listener, i realized that i personally prefer these modern covers of appalachian murder ballads sung by women-led acts like dolly and gillian welch and even the super-recent crooked still especially, because there is a sense of reclamation, subverting its roots by giving it a woman's voice instead.

meaning that, like a lot else from the problematic past, the appalachian murder ballad is something to be enjoyed with critical ears. violence against women is an evergreen issue, of course, and you're going to encounter a lot of that in this branch of historical music.

but with folk songs, and especially the murder ballad, being such a foundational element of appalachian history and culture and fitting squarely into the appalachian gothic, i still find them important and so, so interesting

i do feel it's worth mentioning that there are "tamer" ones. with traditional and modern murder ballads alike, some of them are just for "fun," like a murder mystery novel is enjoyable to read; not all have a message or retell a historical trial.

(for instance, i'd even argue ultra-modern, popular americana songs like hell's comin' with me is a contemporary americana murder ballad--being sung by a male vocalist and having evolved from being at the expense of a woman to instead being directed at a harmful and corrupt church. that kind of thing)

in short: it continues to evolve, and i continue to eat that shit up.

anyway, to leave off, lemme share with yall my personal favorite murder ballad which fits squarely into murder mystery/horror novel territory imo.

it's the 10th child ballad and was originally known as "the twa sisters." it's been covered to hell n back and named and renamed.

but! if you listen to any flavor of americana, chances are high you already know it; popular names are "the dreadful wind and rain" and sometimes just "wind and rain."

in it, a jealous older sister pushes her other sister into a river (or stream, or sea, depending on who's covering it) over a dumbass man. the little sister's body floats away and a fiddle maker come upon her and took parts of her body to make a fiddle of his own. the only song the new fiddle plays is the tale about how it came to be, and it is the same song you have been listening to until then.

how's that for genuinely spooky-scary appalachia, y'all?

[ramshacklefey]

It's amazing to me just how good the Mormon church has been at hiding just how bad they really are from public view. Even the shit that gets spread around is the relatively harmless bullshit. They had a crazy prophet with magic glasses. They believe in god-mandated polygyny. They think everyone who is good enough will get their very own planet after the world ends. They wear magic underpants. Mormon men are all paladins.

Here's one of the ones you hear less often:

See, like many other Christian sects, the Mormons really do believe that the existence of Christ obviates the existence of Judaism. Judaism was just a placeholder until the "real" church could be established by Jesus.

And the Mormons in particular believe, dead ass, that the entire inheritance of Israel has been given to them, because the Jews failed to recognize the Messiah when he was on Earth. They really do. They have this whole system where people are given a "divine revelation" about which of the Tribes of Israel they're a member of (don't worry, they decided that most people belong to the two tribes that are willing to "adopt" people. Only the most specialest boys and girls are members of the original ten).

Let's sum up so far. The Mormons believe that they are the people of Israel, chosen and protected by God. If Jews want to get back in on that party, they can always repent and convert to Mormonism, the one true church to which God gave all the rights and blessings that were originally bestowed on Abraham's house.

But it doesn't stop there!

The Mormons also believe, in all seriousness, that all Indigenous peoples of the Americas are descended from a small group of Jewish people who left just before the fall of Jerusalem (~600 bc iirc). Their entire weird-ass extra bible is a chronicle of those people's history in [unspecific part of America]. At the very beginning of the book, two brothers in the original family turn away from god, so they and all their descendants are cursed with dark skin, so that the good Nephites (who remain "white and delightsome") will always be able to tell themselves apart from the wicked Lamanites.

So, you've got supposedly Jewish people running around the Americas. And the "good" ones are white, and the "bad" ones are brown. Then, ofc, Jesus comes to visit them (I guess supposedly that's part of what he was doing during his dirt nap? Or possibly after he left again, it's not clear), and they all convert to Christianity, which they think is clearly the natural evolution of Judaism. Well, at the end of the book, all of them become wicked, in a kind of weird pseudo-apocalyptic series of events. They are all cursed with dark skin, until such time as they repent for their ancestors sins and return to the gospel.

But of course, Mormons being the good and kind people they are, they want everyone to receive the blessings of God and be brought into the houses of Israel etc etc. And it isn't the fault of those poor little Indigenous children that their distant ancestors turned away from God and became wicked.

So what's the natural answer? Well, Mormons are real big on missionary work, as we all know. But apparently that wasn't enough in this case.

Because the Mormon church has been one of the big players in abducting as many Indigenous children as possible, in order to indoctrinate them into being good Mormons, so that they can turn white again and be blessed. My mother remembers hearing talks about this in the 70s and 80s. The church literally had a "Lamanite Adoption Program," where families in the church were encouraged to get as many Indigenous children as possible away from their families and not let them be reunited until they were fully assimilated and ready to go back and proselytize about how wonderful the church is.

The church leadership literally talked about how wonderful it was to see these children becoming whiter. Actually whiter. Like, saying that when they finally saw them with their families again, it was beautiful how much paler they were.

I'm pretty sure this program has been officially ended, but it doesn't take a genius to speculate about who might be behind the curtains on the movement in the western US to gut the ICWA....

So yeah. Next time someone tries to tell you that the Mormons are just harmless weirdos, please remember that they're an antisemitic cult that advocates for the forced assimilation of Indigenous children to help them escape the cursed brown skin of their ancestors.

[hexhomos]

The 'Talis' hypothesis

So I think the S2 trailer confirms something central about Arcane I've wondered for a while. This has plot bearings to it, namely what nebulous purpose 'Magic' serves in the story -- how they're changing the role Hextech has in the game lore, incl. its power system & ruleset -- and what kind of hubris is associated with it historically. But it also answers something that has always nagged at me: why the fuck did they change Jayce's name?

So let's talk about this picture. And I'm going to give you the rosetta stone in 5 seconds:

This is Hextech now. Like that is just an incredibly concise and complete descriptor of Hextech-in-Arcane, right. It 'harms' Jinx, it 'protects' Jayce in the snowstorm, it 'heals' Viktor to a degree. It is installed permanently in architecture; the Hexgates ARE the brand.

First off, we have this fucker carrying around a talisman from back when he was 7, and the cinematography of the show agonizes over showing you this throughout all of ep2:

Jayce's bracelet is a bang-on definition of a historical talisman. The way hextech *functions* in the show is inextricable from the promises and rites associated with talismans, a word appropriated/popularized by the French - which I'm going to conservatively argue Fortiche would be familiar with;

Which brings me to the subject of what Hextech is, and how Hextech was changed for the tv show (and what its possibly being retconned to in the game)

Hex'tech' is not technology. The name is a carryover from a bygone era of leagueoflegends speak; Hextech in Arcane, and presumably in expanded lore going forward (given Skarner's rework and other things) - is the study, development, and the building of an industry around the craft of practical Talismans. If you want to understand how this shit works you need to promptly abandon the assumption that it is 'manufactured' magic -- its pure magic. It's raw magic. The tech part is a red herring misnomer.

The beliefs around this already cover links to 'the Arcane' as another, ethereal destination realm with Inhabitants that learn and change, ontop of rune-carving as magical instruction;

This also covers Viktor's impending transformation and the changes made to his character.

IN MY OPINION, via the content released so far and what we've already witnessed in S1, Viktor has been shifted away from becoming 'the machine herald' and re-positioned to become the Herald of Divine Rune Alchemy or whichever name they end up using.

I don't doubt that he'll get the armor at some point, because that's a recognizable visual and as much fanservice as they owe his decade-long fans, but... I would temper my expectations around the thought of machine evolution. It's not what this Viktor does, and it's not what he (or the narrative,) is interested in -- My guess is that the armor comes into play as a secondary way to AVOID overusing limited magical power, as we've seen runes can be depleted, and the hexcore tends to kill things in exchange.

Now that we've established all that, here is the bridge that I'm going to sell you.

Now, for today's homework, I expect you to run off to do something useful and homoerotic with this information.

[icarusredwings]

I love watching how animalistic they let Logan be in X men Evolution.

He's always sniffing, hunting, tracking, growling, snarling, scratching, sometimes hisses even. He has fangs, he runs around like a phyco, climbs stuff, pounces, jumps down from high locations like it's nothing, pins, and ravages his prey.

He protects those kids like a mother bear and rolls his eyes like a father who's fed up with his mansion full of angsty hyperactive children.

It's great.

There's a couple handful of scenes when he pulls himself away from the children.

In epusode 11, he absolutely wrecks his room, causing a shit ton of damage, almost slices kitty, but stops. Kitty then talks about how much of a scolding Logan is gonna get from charles only to find him pacing the garden like a trapped wild tiger, the type that even when released in the wild still paces the same 10x 10 and dies from starvation when theres no zookeeper to care for them.

Charles comes up to him, and immediately Logan is an open book, asking for help, whining how much his head hurts and is tearing him apart.

Afterwards, Logan takes the black bird to go track down who ever did this to him only to almost stab kurt so instead locked himself away from the kids.

When they land and after, he's forced to join with Sabertooth due to some chip in his head, lowkey making him hunt these kids. Im pretty sure Kurt pissed his pants. (Same), but Kitty overrides him by asking if he really wants to hurt her. You can see the pain in logans eyes. He obviously doesn't.

He then ends up exploding the experimental place, and charles took out the chip. He tells him that he still hurts emotionally. UGH, my boy is so soft, and no one gets that. He's literally a rescue ex fighting pitty, scarred, scared, reactive, agressive towards men and charles unfortunately is the white woman who has decided to put a sweater on him and give him cocoa butter rubs after his baths.

(I also like that not only Spyke calls Ororo 'Auntie O', but so does the other kids. Rouge saying she hates cats is also something that feels out of character for her. Also, can Charles stop sending Logan to Magneto battles? Like, bruh, you know he's gonna be useless, and it's just gonna end badly. Stop playing this poor man. But anyway. Thanks for coming to my ted talk.)

[ahsokaismyqueen]

The Evolution of Friendship Pairing - Steve Harrington x HendersonSister!Reader Summary - After Steve is attacked by Billy Hargrove, you're shocked to find the guy still attempting to protect you as you two go into the hub to try and buy Eleven some more time. It makes you wonder. Are you and Steve Harrington actually . . . friends? Word Count - 3.3k Warnings - Language and canon typical violence Steve Harrington x HendersonSister!Reader Masterlist

Things started to come back to you slowly. Like the fact that the kids were arguing, the world seemed to be moving underneath you, you were leaning against something solid, and your head hurt like hell. 

Then the memories hit. Billy showing up at Will’s. Steve defending you and the kids, and then Steve getting the shit beat out of him. You remembered thinking Billy was going to kill him if he kept going. You remembered thinking that couldn’t happen. You remembered doing a lot of not thinking as you jumped on Billy’s back and tried to strangle him to get him off Steve. 

You couldn’t remember much after that, but you were distracted from your thoughts by a voice that was very near to your ear, groaning, “Nancy?” 

Your eyes opened, and everything was a bit of a blur for a moment. It wasn't until you felt a body shifting underneath you that you realized the something you had been leaning against had been a person. When you forced yourself up, you realized that person you had been leaning against was Steve Harrington. 

Or at least you were 95% sure it was Steve Harrington. 

God he looked terrible. His face was swollen in several different places, blood still stained his skin, and he looked out of it. You watched as he reached up to touch a part of his face, and your brother, who was now also coming into focus, said “no, don’t touch it,” and tugged his hand away. 

You took that moment to look around you, and suddenly realized why it felt like the world was moving underneath you. It’s because it was. “Dustin, what the fuck?” You said, an edge of panic creeping into your voice. 

“You’re going to keep straight for half a mile, then make a left on Mount Sinai.” Lucas told Max from the passenger seat. 

From the passenger seat because Max was driving. 

“What’s going on?” You heard Steve’s groggy voice say. 

Max looked back at you, and that’s when he seemed to realize what was going on. “Woah, oh my God!” 

“Just relax,” Dustin tried to speak in a calming voice, but it freaked you out more. “She’s driven before.” 

“Yeah, in a parking lot.” Mike spoke up. 

Your heart started pounding in your chest as you flew down the road. Flashbacks flew by in your mind of another dark road, the screeching of tires, the crash of metal ripping . . . 

“They were going to leave the two of you behind, but I promised you’d be cool.” It was Dustin’s voice, but it sounded far, far away. All you could hear echoing in your mind were the ghosts of your screams for your dad and for help. 

“Stop the car! Slow down!” Steve said as Max pressed down on the gas. 

You couldn’t breathe. Your hand slid up and down your chest, rubbing the skin and trying to somehow get some air in your lungs. The car was going too fast. It was too dark. Max was going to get you all killed. “S-Stop the car.” You managed to gasp out. 

“I told you they were going to freak out.” Mike told Dustin. 

“Everybody shut up! I’m trying to focus!” Max yelled. 

A hand gripped your wrist, and you snapped your gaze over to the man sitting beside you. Steve caught one look at your face and started yelling. “Stop the damn car!” 

Faintly you could hear them yelling at Max to make a turn, but your gaze was flickering from the road back to Steve. You couldn’t tell if you were yelling or everyone else was. You couldn’t even tell what was real anymore. Your vision was flashing in and out. One second it would be Max driving the car, next it would be your dad, smiling back at you as headlights flared in the front windshield. Your heart was pounding so hard in your chest you felt like at any moment it would explode and kill you too. 

Then the car turned to the left, the tires screeched, and you couldn’t take it. You squeezed your eyes shut tight and clawed at your chest. 

“It looks great sweetheart.” 

“Dadddddd . . .” You whined. “You didn’t even look.” 

“That’s because I know without looking it’s going to be amazing.” 

You smiled, but then it turned back into a pout. “But I’ve gotta know if it’ll match Dustin’s nursery or not.” 

Your dad sighed, and took his eyes off the road glancing back at the picture you were holding up. When he saw what it was, he started to smile. “It looks as amazing as I pictured it.” 

But something else had caught your attention. A truck, heading straight for you guys which normally wouldn’t have been a concern, but . . . It was on the wrong side of the road. “Dad!” You screamed. 

But it was too late. The sound of glass shattering, tires screeching and metal crunching filled your ears. Your dad was groaning, then he was screaming. He was screaming your name, and you were pressed against something hard - 

Except that wasn’t your dad’s voice, and the something hard you were pressed against wasn’t the car. It was moving, rising and falling, and a hand held your head against it. As your senses started to flood back into your body, you realized there was another hand pressed against your back. You let out a gasp of air as the hand stroked down your back. “Jesus Christ, Dustin! Your dad died in a car crash with your sister, and you thought it’d be a good idea to drag her into a car unconscious with a kid driving?!” 

You weren’t in the car with you Dad. You were with the kids and Steve. You took another gasping breath and inhaled a woodsy and metallic scent. Steve’s cologne and blood. You were pressed against Steve’s chest and any other time you would have been embarrassed, but you were still too panicked to be thinking clearly. Your fingers curled into fists at his chest, gripping his shirt, and you grounded yourself to him. It was the present, you were not in that car anymore. You repeated the words in your mind as Dustin and Steve kept arguing. 

“I didn’t - I didn’t know that would happen. When she drives at night she’s fine.” Dustin sounded upset, and you felt a flash of guilt for how long you had kept this bottled up. 

You remembered the first time it had happened, and how it had flipped Eddie, who was already a terrible driver, out. He had pulled over and had to spend fifteen minutes calming you down. Driving wasn’t the problem. If you were driving, you were in control. You were the one who could keep everyone safe, but when someone else was driving, if they got distracted, it could mean another death. “It-it’s okay,” you gasped out, and you knew you should pull yourself away from Steve, but you didn’t want to. He was your anchor, and you were scared if you pushed yourself away you’d be thrown right back in that memory. You realized how pathetic you must look though, and loosened your grip on his shirt. “I-I I’m sorry.” You whispered.

Steve’s hand grabbed one of yours. It was swollen and bloody, but you didn’t care. It was something else to keep you in this moment. “It’s okay, stay here until we stop all right? Then we can murder these shitheads together.” 

You let out a shaky laugh, and let yourself rest back against his chest. Keeping your eyes closed, you tried to make yourself concentrate on lining your breaths up with Steve’s and not how fast the car was going. When it screeched to a halt, you let out another gasp and Steve squeezed your hand. You heard the kids moving out of the car, and then you allowed yourself to look up at Steve, who hadn’t moved. “I’m sorry I freaked out.” You told him, embarrassment heating up your cheeks. 

He was shaking his head before you could even finish. “You don’t have to apologize for that. It’s those assholes who should be apologizing.” 

A weak smile formed on your face. “I know you didn’t get to meet her, but El is pretty awesome. They want to help her.” 

“So what you’re saying is, they’re not gonna give up.” Steve said, watching them out the open door as they all ran around to gather supplies. 

You shook your head. 

Steve groaned. “Shit, shit, shit.” You watched as he climbed, well stumbled is probably a better word, out of the car.

You were still shaking, but nowhere near as bad as earlier. The car had stopped, and you were back on solid ground. You knew if you and Steve were going to keep these kids from killing themselves, you were going to have to get it together. So you took what felt like your first deep breath in years, and climbed out after him, grabbing a hold of the door when you had a momentary dizzy spell. 

“Get me my shit Henderson.” Steve said to your brother as he made his way to the back of the trunk. “I’m not going to have all of you die on my conscience.” 

Moments later Dustin was handing Steve a backpack and his bat, and handing you a flashlight and a bag of who knows what. You followed the kids to a hole that Mike and Lucas had already jumped in. Steve stumbled down before you, and once again, you found yourself worried about his injuries, and if he could even handle this. You didn’t say anything though, just let out a sigh and jumped down. 

You hadn’t even noticed Steve was waiting there to catch you, and heat rushed to your face as he put you on the ground, your faces inches apart. “Uh- thanks.” You said, your voice still a little breathless, but this time you didn’t think it was because of the panic attack. 

Steve nodded, and you took a step back, turning your attention to the tunnel around you. 

You’d never seen anything like it. It was covered in black vines with white particles floating in the air that you were sure weren’t supposed to be inhaled. There was something so . . . Uneasy about it. You couldn’t ever recall feeling so unsettled. 

“Holy shit.” You heard Steve murmur behind you. 

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure it’s this way!” Mike yelled, pulling you out of your thoughts. 

“You’re pretty sure, or you’re certain?” Dustin called from behind you. 

“I’m 100% sure! Just follow me and you’ll know!” Mike called back frustrated. 

“Woah, woah, woah, hey!” Steve rushed forward, and you grabbed his arm to help steady him when he stumbled. “I don’t think so. Any of you little shits die down here, we’re getting the blame.” He gestured towards the two of you. “Got it dipshit?” Steve told Mike, snatching the map from him. 

As you looked forward a little bit of panic made you bite your lip. You really weren’t sure if Steve was physically capable of this right now. “Steve . . . Maybe you should let me take the lead on this.” You said, giving his arm a squeeze. 

Steve turned to you, but you couldn’t read his expression with how covered up his face was. “If I’m not letting them lead, what the hell makes you think I’d let you?” 

Irritation, and you were surprised it took you this long to feel it, flooded your body, and every bit of worry about his state left your body. Did he not think you were capable of handling this? Much less that he could control you if you decided to? “Let me?” You said, the tone in your voice telling him to reconsider his words. 

He held his hands up defensively in front of him. “Yes, yes, I know you’re a badass, but that doesn’t mean I’m not going to try and protect you.” Steve said, and started walking forward and gesturing to the kids to follow him as if his words hadn’t stopped you in your tracks. 

Steve Harrington, the most popular boy at Hawkins High, wanted to protect the nerdy school slut. If you had told yourself this a year ago, you would’ve thought you were out of your mind. He meant it though, you could sense how genuine he was with his words. A warm feeling settled in your chest to replace the irritation, and you were too stunned to even argue anymore. 

“Are you sure the two of you aren’t dating?” A muffled voice said, and you turned around to see Max, and below her googles you could see a raised eyebrow. 

Her words startled you so much you stumbled back from the force of them. “W-What?” 

She shrugged. “He seems to care about you a lot. Just an observation.” She said, before following after the others as if she hadn’t rocked your world either. 

When Dustin stopped in front of you, you were already rubbing your forehead, nervous about what other thing was going to be revealed to you. “What?” You groaned. 

“I’m sorry- About the car.” He continued when you looked confused. “I didn’t - I didn’t think about Dad. I just didn’t want to leave you there in case Billy woke up-”

You felt bad, reaching out to wrap an arm around your little brother’s shoulders. “It’s okay, Dustin. You didn’t know.” You started to lead him towards the others. “We can talk about it after we save Will and Eleven, okay?” 

Dustin nodded, but still looked upset. 

After what seemed like miles, and a slight scare when Dustin inhaled some of the dust things that were flying around, all of you entered a chamber. A chamber where multiple tunnels seemed to meet. “All right Wheeler,” Steve said, taking a look around. “I think we found your hub.” 

“Drench it.” Mike said. 

You all ended up covering as much as you could of the place in gasoline, and then all gathered back in the way you came, Steve in front with the lighter, and you right behind him with the rest of the kids all gathered around you. “You guys ready?” Steve asked. 

After everyone affirmed, Steve looked at you. 

You nodded. 

It didn’t take long for everything to catch fire, and your hand reached for Steve’s jacket, almost absentmindedly clutching the fabric in your fists as the tunnels seemed to come alive. The vines flew up into the air, tangling around each other. It was almost as if they were . . . Screaming. 

“Let’s go!” Steve yelled, and took off at a run back through the tunnels. 

As you had before, you took up the rear, letting all the kids ahead of you and making sure no one was left behind. In fact, you kept such a close eye on them, you didn’t see the vine until it was too late. 

Once you hit the ground, you watched in horror as it wrapped around your leg, crawling up your body and pinning you to the ground. You let out a scream, attempting to kick it off of you, but it was no use. It had you in too tight of a grip, and terror filled your body as you felt one of them wrap around your neck. You heard Dustin scream your name, and everybody started running back, Mike and Dustin grabbing a hold of one arm each and trying to tug you out of the vines’ grip. 

“Back up!” You watched with wide eyes as Steve ran towards you, and swung his bat down on top of the vines, making them almost screech and let you go. You let out a gasp of relief, and Dustin and Mike let go of your arms as Steve held one out to you. 

You took it without hesitation, and let him help pull you up. When you were standing, he didn’t let go of your hand, giving it a squeeze.

“You okay?” He asked, and the concern in his eyes was clear. 

Your heart was still pumping fast, but you weren’t so sure it was the vines anymore. Afraid to speak, you nodded, giving his hand a returning squeeze. 

That’s when you guys heard the growl. 

Steve’s reaction was immediate. He used his grip on your hand to tug you behind him, and the rest of the kids hurried behind the two of you, except for Dustin who was staring at the demodog. “Dustin! Get away from that!” You hissed. 

Dustin held up a hand to all of you. “Trust me. Please.” 

“I absolutely do not trust you right now. What the fuck-” You tried to go to him, but Steve kept you behind him, his eyes locked on Dustin and the demodog who you now realized was Dart. “Is this shit working?” You whispered to Steve as Dustin began to get some candy out of his backpack. 

“Looks like it.” Steve said, sounding as confused as you felt, but nevertheless, when Dustin gestured for you all to run past Dart, you did. It wasn’t until you heard the growling again, this time way more than just Dart’s, that you started running again. You helped Steve get the kids back up the rope, Dustin making it through when shadows started appearing on the wall. “Come on! I’ll hoist you up!” Steve yelled at you. 

You looked up at the hole where the kids were screaming at the two of you to hurry, but you knew it was too late. You’d never both get up in time, and the thought of leaving Steve down here wasn’t an option. Especially not after what he’d done for you in the car. “I’m not going without you Harrington.” You told him. 

The only part of him you could see was his eyes, darkening slightly as they looked at you. He didn’t have the chance to say anything as the first creatures appeared around the corner. You let out a noise of surprise as your back was pressed against Steve’s chest with his arm around you in an iron grip, his bat at the ready in the other. 

But they ran right past you. 

You heard Mike say Eleven’s name, and realized that she must be closing the gate. You looked up at Steve, who still had you pressed against him even though the dogs were long gone. He seemed to be in another world, staring at the spot the dogs had disappeared to. You knew you should say something, but you couldn’t help but take a second and absorb how it felt to be held so tightly. Somehow Steve felt . . . safe. It was like nothing could touch you because you knew he was going to protect you. Not to mention how it almost seemed like you just . . . fit against him so well. 

Oh god you could not be having those kinds of thoughts about Steve Harrington. That wouldn’t turn out well for anyone. 

Your hand reached up, grabbing his arm that was still around you and giving it a squeeze. “Hey. You okay?” 

The words seemed to shake him out of his thoughts, and he looked down at you, his voice a little breathless when he responded. “Yeah, you?” 

You shrugged. “I guess I’ve been worse.” You admitted. “Now, can you help me get out of here?” You asked, nodding towards the hole. 

“Next time would you just listen to me and go when I tell you?” Steve asked, letting go of you. 

He didn’t take a step back though, and you didn’t either. Instead you turned your body to face him, shaking your head. “Sorry, I won't abandon my friends to their certain death. You’re going to have to get used to it.” You said with a shrug.

You couldn’t see his face still because of the handkerchief, but there was a note of amusement in his tone when he replied. “We friends now, Henderson?” 

A smile formed on your face as you looked at him. You hadn’t even had a second thought about the words before they left your lips, and you were startled to realize that they were true. “Yeah, Harrington, I think we are.” The two of you were friends. You could share more with him than most now. 

So why did the word friend still feel weird on your lips?

[stevieschrodinger]

part One Two

“Steve, I really need to you reconsider this. I mean your life choices, your education, your past relationships, religious beliefs, sexuality, upbringing, political views. Everything that makes you, you, as a person. The very atoms that make up your body, the millennia of evolution. You need to question everything. Because all those choices have brought you here, to this moment...which is fundamentally a fucking mistake.”

“That was strangely beautiful Robs.”

“Unlike the creature feature up on stage there, who is just...strange.”

“He does look like he let a toddler do his makeup.”

“Surely...I mean it kind of looks like it’s done in sharpie, you don’t think it is though, do you?”

Steve sips his drink, “at this point���” Steve just trails off, because really, at this point, anything is possible.

“Are we sure they are all even playing the same song?”

“I think they’re...trying to?” Steve hedges, “but I’m not like, one hundred percent I mean...they are enthusiastic, you’ve got to give them that.”

“Oh, yeah, they have like that, teenage energy vibe you know. I can vaguely remember being really, you know, invested in stuff.”

“You can remember having fucks to give.”

Robin clicks her fingers at him, “yes. Yeah that. I remember having the energy to care.”

“Yeah.” Robin finishes her drink and shoves her empty glass at him. Steve sighs and goes to the bar. Again. He gets himself a coke. Again.

Steve brings Robin her drink, and they sit in silence watching the show. It is loud. And it is enthusiastic. Steve figures it’s some sort of...heavy ish rock? That they’re trying to reproduce up there. Sometimes the front man even introduces songs when he remembers that’s part of his job. Apparently some of them the band wrote themselves. It’s unfortunate.

“God they’re so shit. Harrington I better be your maid of honor when you marry that...that...whatever that thing is up there.”

Steve doesn’t care though. He doesn’t know enough about music to know if Eddie is any good on guitar, but he, specifically, doesn’t sound bad exactly...but he is quick. It’s pretty dead in here, and they aren’t seated that far away from the stage, so Steve can see just how quickly those nimble fingers dance across the strings.

He’s a sweaty mess. His make up definitely isn’t sharpie, because half of it has sweated down his face. His hair is half sticking up everywhere, and half plastered to him with sweat. Whats left of his hacked up tee shirt is sticking too him with sweat.

“Did he just trip over that guitar cable, again?” Robin slurrs at him.

“Yeah.”

“So not only is he fucking useless, but he also cannot be taught.”

“Yeah,” Steve sighs hopelessly.

He’s just so...earnest. So keen. Eddie clearly fucking loves being up there. It’s like...it’s like watching a kids talent show. Objectively shit but so fucking cute.

The audience gets informed that the band will be playing one final song, there’s a smattering of applause and a few woops from the minimal patrons. Steve’s pretty sure they’re cheering because the show is finally about to end, not because they’ve enjoyed any part of it.

“What you going to do?”

Steve climbs off his chair, downing the dregs of his coke, “I am going to fuck that man in a public bathroom.”

Robin huffs, “you’re so fucking vile.”

Part Four

What happens next on AO3

[indiaalphawhiskey]

I’ve been thinking about the evolution of these scenes a lot, and for all the flack part two gets, I think it perfectly illustrates one truth: Colin Bridgerton is consistent in his love to a fault, and he is hopelessly devoted to Penelope.

A lot of us (me) were bothered by him reducing their marriage to a show of his honor and nothing else, but, your honor, the scene on the right makes it clear that’s not true.

The actual truth is that he’d already forgiven her (in less than a day, mind you) — and he was angry at himself for how easy it was for him to do (common, unlucky lovesick fool that he is); angry at how Pen — even after embodying his ultimate dealbreaker — was really all that mattered to him now.

As @phantomphaeton said, what he was actually grappling with was emotional entrapment of it all — the harrowing realization that nothing, literally nothing, could make him not love her.

Because if you think about it, no matter what he may have said at the time, his honor wasn’t enough to make him stand by Marina. With her, honor had his limits. But with Pen? Nothing — not hell or high water — could stop that man from walking down the aisle.

And realizing that shocks him; it scares the living shit out of him, the acute knowledge that he’s so fucking far gone for her, he cannot fathom walking away, even from bloody Lady Whistledown.

So, when she suggests calling off the wedding, the man hurls that entrapment accusation at her with the ease of someone who’d been practicing it; someone who had a list ready to go at the slightest suggestion they break this off. In fact, he doesn’t even take it back when she says she doesn’t know if she will stop publishing, which, considering how much he wants her to stop, is actually super crazy, because it shows just how much he’s willing to put up with, if only just to keep her.

Anyway, Colin Dead Devoted Bridgerton, I look forward to analyzing even more of your desperately down bad clues.

[babygorewhore]

Tempo

Frat!Rafe Cameron x sporty! fem reader!

As Kiara’s older sister, gifted athlete and now college student, you never had time for dating. Or time to acknowledge your secret crush on Rafe Cameron. But when your eighteen year old little sister visits, she pushes you to attend one of his parties.

W.C. 2.4k. I was requested by anon for inexperienced!reader! And size kink! I hope you enjoy!! I lowkey wanna burn this lol

Warnings! I am NOT an athlete by any means so this is very vague lol. Size kink! Inexperienced reader! Manhandling, slapping kink! (Rafe likes to be slapped) degrading, praise, oral! Fem receiving! Unprotected sex! Reader is sporty and frequently works out. Kiara is also OOC but it’s my fic lol. Dividers by @xxbimbobunnyxx

Getting a visit from your parents and little sister motivated you for the performance as you accepted flowers and praise after the competition. Your mother and father finally allowed Kiara to stay the weekend with you on campus, you managed to convince them that your eighteen year old baby sister would be completely safe with you.

You knew they were mostly attempting to keep her away from Pogues back home but with your down to earth nature she felt comfortable to get along with you.

“I don’t know why you’re wasting your time studying something else. Why don’t you go to a fancy art school or some shit? Follow your dreams!” Kiara flopped on your bed in your dorm and you sighed.

“Because. Sports aren’t a long lasting career choice for me. Besides, if you want to live with me, I need to have a good paying job, right?” You countered as you sipped a protein shake.

“You need to stop thinking about everyone else. Think of yourself. You don’t have a life. All you do is study, work and compete. You’ve got to be so bored.” She argues, folding her arms.

“I’m not bored, Kiara. I stay busy and I’m fine with that. And I do have a life! I have a few friends and I have you.” You mumble and she lifts herself up, walking over to you and lightly elbows you.

“You know how much I hate them, they’re a waste of money that could be used for donations but what about parties? Have you gone to any?” Rolling your eyes, you groan at her lecture.

You knew she was jealous of your freedom, considering her relationship with your parents and her full time job. But she also didn’t understand you. The pressure you’d always been under. At a young age, you were in gymnastics. Building your body like a machine while you spent everyday challenging yourself to meet your next goal. And you were good at it.

Your wall was covered in medals, your shelf had a few trophies and photographs of your proud moments.

Dancing was a natural evolution for you. Something you’d discovered when one of your gymnast friends opened their own studio after graduating high school a few years ago. The fluidity of movement, the tempo of the beat and music brought you to life. You were strong, frequently at the gym to keep up with having to flip yourself around in the air with your part time job that was physically demanding.

Your life was fast paced, a competitive streak in your blood motivated you to remain disciplined and focused. Your guilt for being so busy was one of the reasons you wanted Kiara to stay with you this weekend. But she did have a point.

You didn’t have time for dating. You’d never had a boyfriend, guys in the past weren’t exactly pleased that you could fairly put up a physical fight given your athletic lifestyle and razor sharp drive. Men found you…boring. You had an obsession with Halloween and darker things too. It was a nice change from the neon uniforms you were forced to wear.

Her question about parties reminded you of a instagram post you were tagged in yesterday and Kiara must have sensed your train of thought. “Don’t tell me you were invited to one and you’re not gonna go?”

“I’ve been too busy! Plus I wanted to hang out with you-“

“It’s tonight?” She shrieked and started shoving you to your bedroom. “What the hell are we doing? You need to get ready.”

“Kiara, I’m not going to some stupid party. I’m tired from dancing earlier and besides Rafe Cameron isn’t going to notice one person who doesn’t show up.”

“I fucking knew it. You’ve been crushing on that asshole for years. That’s why you were so happy you got into this school.” She accused and you defensively shook your head.

“No I haven’t-“

“Me and Sarah knew you liked him when you shoved him in the pool years ago when he was messing with us when you were life guarding. And that’s why you always offered to babysit during high school. You just wanted to be near him.” Kiara made your jaw drop and you turned away.

“That’s not true! He’s a dick! Why would I like someone like Rafe? That’s why I’m ignoring his invitation.” She extended her hand.

“Let me see the post.” You grumbled something about how your little sister was the one bossing you around and you slapped your phone in her palm.

She read the invite with her mouth parted. “It’s a fucking Halloween themed party? You can dress up and you’re not going? He’s obviously obsessed with you.” You yank your phone back.

“What are you talking about? He’s not!”

“He was there tonight. I saw him watching you dance in the crowd.” You gasped and you felt your cheeks burn. “And now, he’s doing something knowing you like it. Get out of those damn sweatpants and put on something cute. You’re going to that party.”

“No I’m not! I don’t like Rafe Cameron and listen here you little goblin,” Kiara ignored you as she dug through your drawers for another set of clothes.

She tossed you an oversized shirt with skulls on it, knee socks and your converse. “Here. This is good.”

“Why do you want me to go so badly? You hate Rafe!” You complained and she waved her hands.

“Yeah I do. But I want you to have fun. Let loose for one night. Show off what you worked for and finally put yourself first.” You raised an eyebrow.

“You really wanna talk to someone don’t you and you don’t want me hovering?” She was finally silent for a few seconds and you smirked triumphantly. “Fine. I’ll go to this damn party.” You walked away, preparing to change clothes but you gave her a light smack upside the head.

“Ow! The hell was that for?” She whined.

“For telling me what to do.”

You felt your heart in your throat as you knocked on the door of the house where the party was held. You could hear the sound of music and chatter from behind the door as you shifted your weight from leg to leg.

Your face was covered in makeup and your jewelry dangled from your neck as you waited. The entrance opened and Topper ushered you in. “Hey! Look who it is! The girl of the hour!” His arm slung around your shoulders and the bustling crowd cheered. You awkwardly smiled and waved. Girl of the hour?

“Cmon. Rafe is upstairs.” Just the mention of the males name made you swallow thickly and you followed him. A lot of people were wearing costumes, fake blood and merchandise from scary movies.

You recognized Rafe because of his clothing and body but his face was covered. He was wearing a Ghostface mask. Plain black shirt and jeans. Your eyes widened briefly when he turned, noticing you before you smoothed back your nerves and approached him. He met you half way and looked down at you, mask tilted.

“You did show up after all, princess.”

You give him a smile. “Yeah I did. I heard you were at the dance. Did you like what you saw?” You didn’t know where this confidence was coming from but he seemed to be enjoying it. Rafe stepped a little closer, “Oh I loved it, baby. That’s why I told everyone to dress up. Gotta celebrate my little champion, huh?”

“Champion?” You parrot and he chuckles.

“Of course, Angel. You think I’m stupid or something? I’ve been a big fan of yours for a while. I couldn’t wait to get you here so I could have you all to myself.” He trails off quietly and you feel his big hands settle on your hips, squeezing lightly.

“Well, we’re not alone,” You respond and he tugs you against him, as much as you love the mask, you wanna rip it off.

“Easy fix, baby girl. C‘mon.” Instead of walking, Rafe lifted you off the ground and you squeaked. Throwing you over his shoulder, he walked through a hallway before opening a door.

Rafe easily tossed you onto the bed, the plush covers and pillows bounced. You shakily sat up as he tore off the mask and looked down at you with a dark smolder.

“Oh, princess. You have no fuckin idea how long I’ve wanted you in my bed.” He leaned down and put both hands on either side of you as you looked up at him, doe eyes staring into his.

“Why didn’t you ever say anything? Why would you like me? I’ve never told you-“

“Like you? Baby, I don’t just like you. I think about you all the time. No one else has made me feel like this. You’ve always stood up to me and didn’t put up with my shit. You think it’s a coincidence that I liked to push your buttons when we were kids?”

You’re breathless as he tugs on the end of your shirt with a smirk.

“I like a girl who pushes back. You’re my strong girl, hmm? But not tonight. You’re not in control for once. I am.” He grips your waist, your bare skin from your top pulled up and your core pulses.

You reach up, lightly smacking him in the face. “You think you can earn my submission?” Rafe gives you a chuckle and flash of excitement crosses his eyes.

“Princess, by the time I’m done with you, you’re gonna be my little fuck toy. You just wanna push my buttons so I throw you around.” His words turned you on more and you shudder as goosebumps rise on your skin. “Slap me again. Get a good one in too.”

“You serious?” You whisper and he nods.

“What? You too scared?”

You slap him. Hard. Hard enough that his face turns but Rafe doesn’t look angry. “That was a good one, baby. But I’m gonna make you forget any other fucker. I’m sure all those other dudes are all over you at the studio or some shit.” He grunts and tugs off your shirt. Exposing your torso and bra.

You have the urge to cover yourself but you resist. “I don’t have time for dating.”

Rafe pauses and raises an eyebrow. “You’re telling me you haven’t dated? You a virgin?”

You bristle. “No but…it’s only happened once.”

Rafe cups underneath your arms and manhandles you higher on the bed. You don’t have time to breathe before you find yourself pinned with your arms above your head, his face inches above yours. “Bet you’re soaked right now. Underneath those panties you wear.”

He reaches in between your legs and cups your cunt. “God damn, princess. This what you needed? Me to take care of you? Shut off that overthinking head of yours?” He muses and you cup his face bringing him down to fuse your lips together in a messy kiss.

He moans against your mouth and shoves his tongue inside, you separate your legs and tug him closer.

“Gonna taste more than your mouth, baby girl.” He promises and kisses down your body, peeling off your underwear.

“I’m gonna worship this perfect pussy. I’m gonna take such good care of my girl,” He mutters against your pelvis. Rafe shoves your thighs apart and buried his head in, making you groan and dig your fingers onto the sheets.

His tongue laps hungrily at your clit, sucking in all your wetness as he moans and grinds on the bed. You whimper as he fucks you with his mouth.

“You like that, babydoll?”

“Mhm! I’m gonna cum,” You stammer and he lifts up, his massive body flexing as he rips off his shirt. Exposing his fit body.

“You’re gonna cream on my dick, then you’re gonna clean it up. Are you going to be a good little whore?” He breathes and you whine.

“Mhm, yes. Please, fuck me. I need it so badly. I want you to fill me up,” You beg and he shoves off his pants. His big, thick dick slapping against his thigh.

“How can I say no to such a pretty girl?” He gives your bare ass a slap before he pumps himself a couple of times, his cock in his fist before he presses into you.

You mewl and bury your head in his neck. He growls and thrusts, hard enough that you almost feel like you’re gonna burst from how big he is. But he quickly adds his fingers to rub your clit.

“This fuckin pussy is mine. It’s so tight, splitting you in two, baby girl. Gonna breed this perfect cunt.” He huffs and your eyes squeeze shut as your peak rises.

“That’s it, princess. Cream on my dick.” He praises and your climax overwhelms you.

You cry out and sink your teeth into his naked shoulder and he moans. He moves harder, bringing slight pain but it only adds to your pleasure. He spills in you, “Gonna stuff you so full of cum you’re gonna be a brainless little doll.”

Rafe pulls out, pumping himself again as cum drips onto the bed. “Give me that pretty mouth, princess. I wanna see your eyes roll back. You can fuckin take it. Like a little champion.”

Tagging @marchsfreakshow @xxbimbobunnyxx @drewstarkeyslut @redhead1180 @oceandriveab @starkeysprincess @rafescurtainbangz @rafeinterlude @gri959 @rafesthroatbaby @slvt4jamesmarch

[punkpandapatrixk]

🍀Lady Luck on Your Side ♦︎ Timeless Pick A Card

There is no economic system that’s perfectly perfect. Whatever system you’re in, what’s wise to do is make the best out of all streams of possibilities viable within that system. Transcend above the stupidity and strike your Lucky 3 (Jupiter’s number LOL)🍄

In Astrology, the Lady Luck is represented by Mother Jupiter—the planet of expansion and good luck. The thing about luck, Love, is that you can’t plan around it. You can only prepare yourself and your resources the best you can and then gamble it all away. Gamble your fucking Life away at big endeavours that you know your Soul intends for you. Have faith in your divine abilities, bitch~🐞

If you fail, you learn!🐌

You are a Luck Magnet for as long as you believe in yourself. Be confident in that the essence of your beingness is enough for manifesting all you’re meant to see manifest in your lifetime🍀

Jupiter Sign: the psychology with which you philosophise shit

Jupiter House placement: areas of Life most blessed by the grace of Jupiter’s expansion

Planets in 9th House: indicate a need to expand beyond a simpleton mindset!!

‘The secret is not to chase the butterflies but to take care of your garden so they’ll come to you.’ – an old proverb

SONG: Baby Face by Sakamoto Maaya

MOVIE: Cruella (2021)

[PAC Masterlist] [Part 1] [Part 3]

[Patreon] [Paid Readings]

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 1 – Patiently Revealing All Your Glorious Petals

lucky money (insights into lucky career opportunities) – Knight of Pentacles Rx

I’ve got to say your opportunities are the most unique here, and very likely quite challenging in that you must have patience. Lady Luck says that the path most suited to your lucky money involves your being a ghost. Hustling in secret, hiding your plans and spiritual truths from everybody else and treading very carefully on the way towards your goal. This could take many years! For many of you, this could be the loneliest path because nobody around you seems to understand your visions, or the intuitive nudges you know your Higher Self is directing you towards🛴

You were put in environments where most people don’t understand you (or they simply don’t share your visions) because your Higher Self intended for you to exercise navigating adversaries. This was part of your Soul’s scenario, you know. Stormy seas make the best sailors, kind of scenario. In that sense, you’ve been met with many uncomfortable situations, even dangerous and painful encounters and goodbyes to advance your evolution. Fear not, for you have not lost but gained valuable perspectives what will ensure good karma returning to you when you’re older🎆

For the majority of you reading this, your Jupiter will begin to really shine a light on your real lucky career path after you’ve graduated your first Saturn Return. Typically, by the time you’re between 29 and 33, things will get that much clearer and you’ll regain your motivation (if you’ve lost it at some point) and feel really glad you’ve made it thus far. The future accessible to you will begin to feel astonishingly clear and you will be excited but still need to work on that patience LMAO

lucky daily (ways to increase luck every day) – Page of Wands

Having said all of that, many of you reading this may feel quite frustrated at the idea that you’re only gonna get your successes at a later age. Especially if you’ve survived your first Saturn Return and you’re only beginning, you may have felt quite like a loser in comparison to these 20-somethings already achieving so much in Life… But, who’s to say all of that is gonna last? Sometimes, people gain a lot at a young age only to have all of that swept away by the time motherfucking Saturn returns to get them LOL Well, that, too, is part of their spiritual evolution, so~🙏🏻

Remember that you’re not in a competition with anybody or even Destiny itself. To increase your luck daily, Jupiter is saying: enjoy every single day you get to make progress on your true ideal career. Whatever it is that you’re doing right now, and if you aren’t yet where you envision yourself to be, you can still enjoy every single step you manage to take on a daily basis to get you closer to where you want to be. You’re learning and gaining momentum, aren’t you? All these little steps matter in the grander scheme of your Higher Self’s orchestration to bring to your doorstep all that you deserve📦

Of all the piles, I have a strong feeling your manifestation is the most guarded by the Higher Realms. You’re meant to go through hoops and learn to prepare yourself very well so that you could build a strong foundation that is sure to have longevity. The thing you’re meant to do, to have, to express, to create and build, unlike many, many others who need to learn through gain and loss of the very things that matter to them, is going to be yours forever once you establish it. The whole idea of unlocking achievements in accordance to age is pure scam. You are safe and perfectly on time🎯

lucky strike (big blessings you’re destined to obtain) – Knight of Wands Rx

Let me let you in on a secret. Mental clarity/health is absolutely paramount to your success story. Plenty of young people get crowned with massive successes without having a strong foundation of morality or empathy, and least of all, spirituality. For example… How many times have we heard tragical Hollywood stories where young celebs/influencers became the IT girls/boys very early on only to crumble and get shattered by the time they’re in their late 20s or early 30s? (Saturn freaking Return!) All because they’re so out of touch with reality🤷🏻‍♀️

Not saying they’re terrible seeds per se, but perhaps it was their environment/upbringing what didn’t allow them to bloom beautifully the way you are with your emotional and spiritual maturity. Whatever career choice you have in mind, know that when you’re finally established there, you’re going to be so based, so grounded in reality that everybody is going to have immense respect for you for the things you say and contribute to your cause📢

Your lucky break may indeed require a slow, careful planning, all behind the scenes, too. You are meant to develop in the fog and mists, away from the beady eyes of those who might seek to trample over everything you’re building. Nobody would ever guess what your next lucky chapter would look like! But you do. You do so well because you’re working on it every day, diligently and resiliently. Maybe you don’t know yet, but Lady Luck is visiting a lot sooner than logically expected hahah And when she carries you through those winds of change…🥂

DESTINY SERVING TEA🔻💙

mother Jupiter on your side (message from Jupiter) – Red Astronomer (Johannes Kepler)

merging with your Higher Self (the weight of destiny) – Priestess of Clarity

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☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 2 – Resiliently Growing in the Mud

lucky money (insights into lucky career opportunities) – 2 of Cups Rx

Harmony is definitely integral to your spiritual sanity. You’re not the type of person who can thrive in a dog-eat-dog industry. When people are ugly to each other at the workplace, it fucks most of your brain’s functions up. This coldass capitalistic system doesn’t suit you; and if you can’t seem to catch up, it’s not because you’re a failure, but because you’re wired towards a more high-vibrational existence. An existence where people’s interactions are generally pleasant and—in some instances—beautiful💞

There must be some significant Libra/7th House or Pisces/12th House placements in your birth chart that are pulling you towards creating harmony in your work environment. Being surrounded by ease and beauty is of paramount importance to your optimal functioning. If you’ve ever experienced some kind of a professional heartbreak from betrayal/cruelty by co-workers or bosses, that environment ain’t where you belong, and it is perfectly safe for you to eject yourself from that hellhole. There are better things more suited to your Style🌈

Lady Luck says you may be more suited to working alone until you establish yourself enough to make collaborations with others who are quite similar to you in terms of their general politeness and delightful visions for the world. Wow that’s a longass sentence. For example, a vibe I’m getting is a small business owner selling whatever beautiful and creative things you can produce on your own. Even if not selling, you could have, for example, a YT channel showcasing your real-time painting or any other interests/talents you may have and get money from rolling ads🎞

lucky daily (ways to increase luck every day) – 6 of Cups

If you’ve ever had frustrating, or even painful, experiences in the corporate world—whatever the setting may be—that whole ordeal was truly teaching you the importance of working with just a small circle of trustworthy individuals to move forward with. Integrity is crucial in your daily choices. Sharing ideas and stories with kindred spirits is the way to go in your case. That you never betray your own purity, that you don’t give in to selling your Soul to the Devil, that you never let yourself kowtow to the System…

All of these brave decisions are what’s going to be favoured by the Lady Luck. In different scenarios this endeavour may take some time, but don’t fret, because for most people, accessing the Power of Jupiter does take some maturing. It does take some experiencing, some intel-gathering, some philosophising over many, many things that are eating away at your sanity. The moment you become clear about those wrong things is the moment you regain control over your daily choices🍭

You may want to look at what your 6th House sign and placement entail for your healthy habit-building~ You’re a bit of a Faery Soul, an Elven Soul, or maybe a Mermaid Soul; you’re gentle and more sensitive than most Humans. Maintaining harmony and balance in your everyday Life is key to increasing your Luck daily. You’re spiritual and creative, and so, if you allow yourself to indulge in soulful activities as part of your money-making endeavours, Lady Luck is going to gladly visit you every day~🌬

lucky strike (big blessings you’re destined to obtain) – 5 of Wands Rx

It isn’t to say that you’re meant to only live a secluded, hermit lifestyle. As mentioned earlier, you could benefit from working alone when you’re just starting on your passion project. You’re more suited to working solo and figuring things out yourself as you build a livelihood that’s generally pleasant every day~🌌

When you’ve raised your vibrations enough and be super charming and confident because you’re making money by living authentically, you’re going to become a magnet for amazing, one-of-a-kind, kindred spirits who are just as unconventional as yourself. You’re going to be glad because your connections and relationships are going to be exciting without stupid dramas. This in itself could lead to amazing collaborations with those who share similar visions as yourself🌉

You are definitely amongst those convention breakers who will show others that operating on nothing but the spirit of competition in the professional world is dumb as fuck. People thrive when they collab with those of similar tastes and minds. When all’s said and done, you’re meant to have a Life of ease and a lot of cheer with unique individuals living high-vibrationally interesting lives, carving your own alternative existence~💠

DESTINY SERVING TEA🔻💛

mother Jupiter on your side (message from Jupiter) – Green Astronomer (Nicolaus Copernicus)

merging with your Higher Self (the weight of destiny) – Priestess of Inspiration

Access full reading + cards on Patreon🌸

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 3 – It’s Like You’re Growing Money on Trees, My Goodness!

lucky money (insights into lucky career opportunities) – Page of Pentacles Rx

It’s clear you’ve done some heavy shadow work, maybe it’s only begun quite recently; but for some, this may have been ongoing for quite a number of years. Whatever the case may be, and however old you may be, there’s this feeling that you’re starting over. You’re just beginning to live again. This time around, you’re living on your own terms; you’re feeling, ‘This is who I should’ve always been!’ And you feel incredibly glad, for the most part😶

It’s perfectly normal to feel sad sometimes, after all, a lot of shit you’ve faced. For quite some time, you totally bought the hustle culture—the thing about it was that you were ludicrously hard on yourself. I sense a majority of you reading this are Millennials? Or perhaps older Gen Zs. Anyway, your expectations on yourself were hurting you so much. After some shadow work, you realised da problem wasn’t you; it was the System. You were scammed big time🤬

Thus you quit a whole industry and began cultivating your own Art. This is the spiritual pile for sure. I sense many of you reading this resonate with being a Lightworker, Starseed, or a Mystic even. You could be doing tarot readings yourself; running a blog channelling cosmic messages from higher beings; some could have a YT channel dedicated to New Age spirituality or esoteric occult knowledge; and some could even be a detective or in the investigative field. WHOA. If you’re not already doing these thing, Spirit Guides are saying you would be very blessed by the Lady Luck if you thrust yourself into these types of work😘

lucky daily (ways to increase luck every day) – 5 of Pentacles Rx

Whoa… do I need to give you any advice or anything? Bitch, you cracked the code! You’re practically a master manifestor at this point in your Life. I sense some of you reading this may not resonate just yet but you’ve literally transcended far above the need for money. Right now, if you allow yourself to calm down, you’ll realise you could just sit down every day and money grows on your trees~🌳

You’ve quite become an embodiment of your Higher Self, and that Oversoul of yours knows you’re unlimited. There is no more lack in your subconscious, let’s just put it that way. Now your conscious, your logical brain, just needs to adjust to this new paradigm (if not already) and you will be effortlessly attracting the means to afford all that you need to move forward. With 5 of Pentacles in reverse—namely a trauma card—Spirit Guides are saying you’re in a healing phase right now🧸

If—IF—certain days you feel tired, fatigued, drowsy for an entire day, and just unmotivated to work even on something you’re passionate about, please know this is your body still recuperating from the adrenal stress caused by long years of having to hustle or simply having a hustle mindset. You’re not doing anything wrong and you’re not failing, OK? Your intelligent body is just telling you it’s safe to slow down now. It’s perfectly good to sleep aaallll day and just feed and clean yourself for 5 consecutive days if that’s really all you can do to maintain mental and spiritual balance. That spiritual balance is what’s going to effortlessly manifest all the abundance you’re so deserving, so don’t be afraid of ‘missing’ some work days~🛌

lucky strike (big blessings you’re destined to obtain) – 4 of Cups

There is a sense of stability that you’re going to manifest pretty soon in your Life (if not already LOL). In some regards, this stability could even feel rather boring, uneventful, just because you were quite used to having a lot of chaos in your previous chapter of Life. But this stability will serve as a big ‘rehab period’ for you to truly shift your paradigm. And then, once you manage to get all your ducks in a row in your new paradigm…🦆

Pretty soon you’re gonna see everything in your Life move quite fast. If by any chance you’ve resonated with this: ‘I feel like everything has changed so much, yet nothing seems to have changed at all…’ please know this is actually yourself slowing things down so you don’t manifest another set of stressful unfolding of events! This was preordained by your Higher Self! Hahah…

The reason for this is that at this point in your spiritual evolution, you’ve become really particular about high-quality manifestations you’re willing to entertain within the construct of your own Reality. So much so that you simply won’t entertain the manifestation of good opportunities if it’s going to be stressful. NO STRESS is a big part of your magick. This concept literally goes beyond just material things; pretty soon you’ll see that you’re only manifesting high-quality experiences, environments, encounters, and even Love🦢

DESTINY SERVING TEA🔻💜

mother Jupiter on your side (message from Jupiter) – Gold Alchemist (Roger Bacon)

merging with your Higher Self (the weight of destiny) – Priestess of Intuition

Access full reading + cards on Patreon🌸

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

[PAC Masterlist] [Part 1] [Part 3]

[Patreon] [Paid Readings]

[drurrito]

Crash

Summary: Pulling this from the vault, I don't have the will to come up with a better title.

Pairings: Natasha x Reader

Warnings: Violence, blood, cursing...

--------

This was supposed to be an easy job.

You curse loudly while crouching behind a desk, loading your clip and shoving it back into your gun.

“Cover me,” the woman across from you demands and you don’t have much of a choice--watching a flash of red sail through the room and incapacitating one of the guys shooting at you. You manage to gun the other one down and take the lull in violence as an opportunity to get the hell out of there.

“Don’t,” she warns. 

“I’m here on other business, this is your mess,” you hiss.

“You’re staying where I can see you,” ignoring her, you clutch the briefcase and dash towards the stairs. You can hear her footsteps coming towards you for a few seconds before a loud blast makes your ears ring. You look back, she’s out cold and there’s a rather large green man howling over her motionless body. 

“Shit,” your legs won’t take you any further and you mutter another curse as you charge towards the man. He’s huge, you might just die, you think to yourself while raising your arms, here goes nothing.

“Hey!” you shout, even his eyes are a deep green, reminding you of what the sky looks like before a tornado spawns to pummel a landscape.

He growls and takes a step towards you but is quickly barraged by bullets from the other end of the corridor. Now’s your chance, you’re quick to scoop up the woman’s body and make your way down the stairs to the next floor.

You can feel the cries of the building’s foundation when you realize that taking the stairs will lead you to someplace six feet under. You find the nearest elevator and pry the door open with a gadget, using another to zip you and what you wished was anything but an unconscious woman down and out of the building before half of it crumbles down to nothing.

-----

She thanks you with a fist to your face as soon as she wakes up.

“Hey! Chill out!” you spit, you focus so much on detaining her limbs that you don’t account for her head.

You stumble back a few steps and she tackles you to the ground, not feeling half as light as she did when she was limp in your arms a few hours ago.

“If you wanted to be on top, you could have just asked,” you grunt, still struggling underneath her when she shoves a candle stick against your throat. Her legs are hooked under your hips, not giving you much room to maneuver-usually this position is followed by something a little more pleasant than this, you think.

“Who are you?”

“Y/n," you strain.

“Who do you work for?”

“Myself,” you yelp out in pain as she twists the candlestick a little farther into your neck.

“Who do you work for?”

“I just told you.”

“Not good enough.”

“It’s going to have to be--I have a quasi-handler and that’s it. I’m a one woman show,” you grunt, the candlestick loosens a bit against your neck.

“That building-”

“I was applying for a job, what did it look like I was doing?”

“Stealing.”

“You’re good,” you wince instead of wink, you’re throwing out that candlestick the first chance you get.

“How did we get here?”

“Ever heard about the theory of evolution?”

“Shut up, tell me what happened.”

“It’s hard to talk with you trying to put a hole in my neck,” she finally lets you up and you gasp, letting the air fill your lungs. You make your way over to your chair, reclining with a huff. She stays on the floor, bracing herself against a bruised and bloodied arm.

“Some big green guy busted in, knocked you out cold.”

“Bruce,” she whispers quietly enough that you don’t hear her.

“Looked like he was gonna crush you so as soon as someone started shooting at him, I grabbed you and left.”

“Where am I?”

“At least 25 miles away from the building,” you glance at her, “it’s gone, building folded in on itself as soon as we touched the pavement outside.”

“I need your phone,” she tries to get up but is quickly seated by the shooting pain in her torso. You’re out of your chair and by her side, she flinches away from you, the fiery look in her eyes makes you restrain the urge to try and find the source of pain, you’d like to keep your hands for just a little longer.

“You’re hurt,” you slowly reach for her this time. You mentally give yourself a gold star for helping with a steady grasp on her pinky while she dragged the rest of herself onto the couch.

“Phone.”

“Doctor first.”

“No,” she holds up the candle stick as a threat and you scoff before you realize that she’s too stubborn to be couch-locked by whatever pain she’s in. 

“Fine, be my guest,” you hand her your phone, “try not to die on this carpet, I just had it cleaned,” she glares at you while the phone rings, you barely hear a man’s voice on the other end.

“Clint? I’m okay, can you get my location?” you almost don’t recognize this new shade of voice on her. It’s soft, laced with a little worry and care--you decide that kind of tone would have made the candlestick sting a lot less.

“That’s the only easy part, we’re still trying to recover the asset and Bruce is still on the loose-can’t get you until tonight.”

“I’m not alone,” she tips her head in your direction.

“Friendly?”

“I don’t know yet.”

“Do what you gotta do and hole up, we’ll get there when we can.”

“I’ll be here.”

“You better,” Clint hangs up and she breaks the phone with such ease that it takes you a second to realize you’re without a phone now.

“Right, I didn’t need that anyway,” you mumble, she tries to get up again and you calmly press a palm against her shoulder.

“Unexpected guests are still my guests,” you insist and she shoots you a look. If you’re going to be a hostage in your own home, you might as well be a good host.

“Stay here, I’ll get you some things, I need to call the doctor anyway.”

“Don’t call anybody.”

“Relax, he has to come get this briefcase, he’ll be discreet,” you head upstairs and she stubbornly lifts herself off the couch and takes a look around the room. Her gun and batons are on the counter but are quickly reunited with their respective holsters on her body. She notices a file with papers spilling out of it and opens it up to skim over the contents.

“Like a modern-day robin hood,” she mutters, almost feeling guilty for giving you such a hard time.

“I never got your name,” you call out from the top of the stairs. You let out an unamused sigh when you see that she is up and about. You figure if you had half of the resolve she does then maybe the trash would get taken out a lot more often.

“You don’t need it.”

“But you asked me for mine?”

“I didn’t need it either, you gave it to me anyway.”

“You had a candlestick to my neck,” you retort, she shrugs and you throw everything in your arms onto the counter.

“Clothes, towels, trauma balm,” you make your way to the fridge and push a truce-flavored bottle of water towards the woman before turning your attention to the fridge.

“I’m making tacos,” you don’t catch the high arch in her brow, too focused on filling the room with something much more delicious than the tension between you.

--------

“A few broken ribs, bruising, and some stitches for your head but you’ll live--I gave you the good drugs too,” the doctor stands up to leave when you hand him the briefcase.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it, seriously--I don’t need people knowing I make house calls.”

“I hope this has everything you need,” you shake his hand.

“You always get it done,” he leaves without another word and you approach the woman splayed out on your couch. Heavy drugs giving a mild effort in wearing down the stoic look on her features.

“When are you getting rescued?” 

“Few hours,” she grumbles.

“Here,” you put a plate on the coffee table, “shower’s down the hall, let me know if you need help.”

You grab your own plate and put on some music, figuring that your guest wouldn’t be much of a talker. 

“You help people,” her voice a little raspy from exhaustion and the drugs.

“I try to, yes,” you sit back down, “and you?”

“Same boat,” she cracks, sitting up. You don’t see her briefly inspect the food before taking a bite out of a taco.

“Natasha,” she says, her mouth full, “Natasha Romanoff,” the corner of your mouth ticks up into half a smile, a small celebration for a rather monumental victory.

--------

Natasha towels off her hair and hobbles back to the main room.

“I told you I could help,” you catch her in time to see her wave you off.

“Maybe next time,” she gives you a smirk and before you can even process what she said there’s a knock at the door. You open it to find a man with a messy mohawk, muscles bulging out of his vest.

“Tash?”

“In here, Clint,” he briefly meets your eyes while you step aside to let him in.

“She’s only a little broken, but she’ll make it,” you joke and your newest house guest is unimpressed.

“Christ, Bruce,” Clint grunts.

“Bruce, the big green guy?”

“Yes.”

“You know him?”

“Yes.”

Your jaw drops a little in disbelief, not expecting this to be the product of some friendly fire.

“Let’s go home,” Clint swiftly throws Natasha’s arm over his shoulder and they make their way towards the door, you walk with them.

“Sorry about your phone, and your face,” Natasha’s lips pulse with guilt.

“Better than some broken ribs and stitches,” you tease, thankful to be just out of her reach when you see her arm twitch at her side.

“Don’t crash any more missions,” she says somewhat sternly.

“I could say the same to you,” you smile, she scoffs as Clint carries her to the car. You don’t move until they disappear down the road.

[deansdelicate]

I CAN SEE YOU

CHAPTER I: YOU BRUSH PAST ME IN THE HALLWAY

seth rollins x fem!writer+producer reader

word count: [5.3K]

warnings: no use of y/n, mild cursing, talks of anxiety, overall feel good chapter with some slight flirting.

🎧 the soundtrack

summary: Your first day on the main roster wasn't something you ever saw coming, but taking risks is the exact reason why you were there. Still, like walking on new grounds, you find yourself on edge, it a miracle that an encounter with a certain someone leaves you feeling a little at ease with the new beginnings ahead.

The pep in your step felt a little different, and so did the air that belonged to a city you’ve never stepped foot in before—but all of that culminated into nothing when you were thrown in with the sharks not knowing what exactly you were getting yourself into.

The corridors were far more confined than you remembered them being when you were a little kid, and the stares you got were almost gawking. So much different from the admiration that used to fill their orbs when you were a little girl running up and down similar hallways in a different state, different city, different night.

But it’s because you knew they didn’t look at you like that little girl anymore. Nowadays, your entire being was shaped by who your mother and father were, plus the prestigious family name you possessed and the legacy you were expected to carry on.

All of it is foreign, like figuring out how to walk again and this time it’s in a world full of larger-than-life characters that even you cannot seem to fathom quite yet. You grew up around all of it, but you never imagined walking in the shoes of those before you and paving your own way.

A way towards what could be the downfall of your family name or the rise of a new era that started with you.

“The evolution of this company lies within the palm of my hand and—shoot!”

Your footsteps came to an abrupt halt, your body meeting a stiff chest that nearly knocked you to your feet if it weren’t for the quick hands keeping you up by the waistline.

The loose paper scripts fell from your hands, cascading across the concrete floors, losing their orderly place from where you were practicing for what felt like the millionth time.

“Shit! Let me help you, I’m sorry.” A deep voice spoke apologetically, making sure you were standing upright before letting up on his grasp.

The man immediately beat you to it, bending down to gather all the papers, trying his best not to mix them up even more than he already did. Tapping them against the ground to get them in a crisp stack, he rose up and met your eyes.

“Thanks…sorry, it was my fault. I wasn’t paying attention.” You apologized, taking the stack of papers he handed to you.

He shook his head smiling assuringly, “I should’ve been more careful,” he paused for a brief moment, tilting his head at you as if he was trying to place you in his memory.

“Are you new here? I haven’t seen you around before.”

You nodded, smiling widely, trying your best to wash away the first day jitters, “Today’s my first day, actually.”

His lips parted in silent surprise before speaking once more.

“Welcome to the team, my names Seth by the way.” He held out his hand, offering it to you politely.

“Nice to meet you, Seth.” You shook his with a grin on your face.

All of him suddenly hitting you like a ton of bricks, realizing that you should’ve known him the second you two caught eyes.

You had been studying the program closely as a part of your preparation for the venture. Your father making sure you knew every face and every name, not just out of respect but to understand the importance of storytelling—something you were about to be a part of in mere hours as the clocked ticked on.

So you were familiar with Seth Rollins. The mastermind behind the toughest faction of all time, the architect behind his success, the very person who was able to redesign, rebuild, and reclaim it, and most recently the Monday Night Rollins that was taking the world by storm.

You introduced yourself to him, leaving out a very crucial part before you felt your phone buzzing in your back pocket. Quickly you released his hand, apologizing under your breath, pulling it out—the screen flashing with messages from your father wondering where you were.

You looked up at him, tucking your phone away.

“I gotta run. Hope to catch you around, Rollins!” You called out, passing him a simple wave before heading off to where you needed to be.

Seth shrugged, continuing on his way to catering not thinking anything much of the encounter. He was versed around the crew. Camera men, mic operators, stage hands, creative personnel, security—the list went on.

After years of being on the road with the same company, he was acquainted with almost everyone. Granted, he got some names confused here and there, but for the most part he knew the faces that were always around.

You happened to be one of the new ones—a pretty one at that. It wasn’t every day that the company expanded their crew, too accustomed to the people who were well seasoned with the type of show they were producing and the talent they needed to get it out to the fans. But he knew if you were here, then you surely knew what you were doing.

“There you are Mr. Monday Night,” Kofi whistled with a smirk, catching the sight of Seth walking through catering wearing a big ‘ole smile.

“Yeah, yeah,” he waved off, going to make himself a plate of food to get himself energized before the show, “You gonna call me that every time I enter the room?” He barked playfully, tossing a little bit of everything on his plate.

Kofi hummed, pulling out a chair for his friend to sit, “What’s the sense of you naming yourself Monday Night Rollins if I don’t seize the opportunity for a nickname?”

“We could always call you Triple R? Redesign, Rebuild, Reclaim?” Charlotte quipped and everyone shook their heads.

“Paul would have a field day with that one,” Dean snorted with a grunt.

Catering was one of the many communal spaces in every arena. Superstars mingling with others before and in between matches, and a lot of them traveling with others to make work feel more like play outside the ring. While the routine may seemed hectic for some, for people like Seth who had been doing it long before WWE, it was second nature, only this time nicer rental cars and occasional business class flights made it less stressful.

The catering door swung open, a stagehand who looked rather frantic eyed the room.

“Have any of you seen Ms. Levesque?”

Seth furrowed his brows, confused as he and the rest of the room answered ‘no’ while the stagehand sighed, communicating into their earpiece and then disappearing.

Stephanie had stepped down from her co-CEO position months ago after her husband Paul took over and while it wasn’t odd for her to pop in every once in a while, it was even odder that a stagehand of all people was out looking for her.

“Since when did Steph drop the Mrs?” He wondered, looking around at his friends who shrugged carelessly, not paying it any mind.

You raced through the hallways, reading aloud every plaque that hung from the doors until you finally came across the one you had been searching for amidst all the twists and turns of the arena. You turned the knob, pushing your way inside to be greeted with your dad looking up from his laptop and rising from his desk with a smile on his face.

“There you are,” He greeted, walking around to greet you with a hug.

“Hey,” You closed your eyes peacefully, holding him tightly before releasing, “Sorry I got caught up with TJ and Dave.”

You waved the still jumbled scripts in your hand, and he chuckled, nodding his head knowing that’s exactly where you should’ve been after he sent some stage hands to search for you. He could feel your anxiety and he could certainly read it in your face—no matter how much he tried to prepare you and let you process it on your own, he knew it was the normal nerves coming out to play.

“Relax kid, don’t get too in your head over this,” He encouraged you, gently nudging your side with his elbow. “The moment you get out there it’s going to come like second nature.”

You rolled your eyes, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Are you really trying to work in a Ric Flair reference right now?”

He laughed out loud, ruffling the top of your head with a grunt.

“You’re lucky you're my daughter you know that?”

“Oh trust me, I’m aware.”

You hung out in his office, getting the scripts placed back into the correct order, reading it over while your dad typed away responding to important emails he didn’t want to bore you with. It was his duty as a father to not stress you with unnecessary business on your very first day, but sooner than later he’d show you the ropes on what he knew you’d take on flawlessly.

After some time passed, a knock was heard on the door. You and your dad looking up in the direction and he called out a reply summoning them in.

It was Samantha, one of the few people you had met prior to your first day. She was the head of social media, running almost every WWE outlet on the internet. She gladly welcomed you, expressing her excitement for the day she got to make a post about you officially joining the company.

“Hey you, it’s your big day!” She congratulated with an embrace that you were incredibly grateful for.

“I’m so nervous. Promise me you won’t post my promo if I botch it?” You said half jokingly, but the fear was still obvious behind your eyes.

“You’re not going to botch it, trust me. Your dad told me you’ve been rehearsing it like every day.” She insisted, waving off your self doubts.

Paul rose his hands in defense, catching your half hearted glare you shot him.

“You know it by heart, but you also know how to make it feel natural and real, which is the most important part.”

Sam nodded her head in agreement, rubbing your arm up and down encouragingly before you plopped back down on the couch. She made her way towards your dad, holding out the reserved social media phone, linked to all of Triple H’s platforms, and displayed the post for one of their social media uploads.

“Speaking of important, I’m going to send out the tweet about the special announcement from your twitter account then I’ll retweet and quote from the company’s main account,” She explained, watching Paul scan through the text before giving an approving nod.

“Send it out.” He gave his approval and Sam promptly hit post, checking out the numbers already begin to fly through the notification tab just a few seconds later.

She looked over at you, shooting you a thumbs up, “You’re going to break the internet tonight, for all good reasons.”

You said your goodbyes to her, checking the time on your phone realizing that doors would open any minute now and time would surely pass faster than you’d like before it was showtime. Your hair and makeup was already done, needing just a little more of hairspray and a reapplication of lip-gloss.

“I should probably get changed, right?” You looked up at your dad who nodded and did some typing on his phone before standing up and strolling over to where you tried to relax your nerves.

“Go get changed and shake out your bones. I’ll meet you out in the ring, okay?” He spoke gingerly, slinging his arm across your shoulders, giving you a loving shake—the same one he always gave you when you needed the push.

“You sure you don’t want to go over it again?” You stared up at him, eyes wide with fret.

He shook his head, pressing a kiss to the side of your head.

“I don’t want you to psych yourself out. You know it well and how to make it yours…that’s more than enough.”

He sent you on your way, but of course not without a request for your ‘personal assistant’ to follow you along. In actuality, it was his personal assistant, a sweet guy named Eddie who you had met times before—sometimes even the one picking up your phone calls to your dad when he was busy in meetings and talent relation.

“Ms. Levesque, your dress has been pressed and ironed. Would you like to change into it now?”

Eddie spoke with an exaggerated English accent, making you crack a laugh, shaking your head and taking the garment from where he held it out to you.

“The English would throw scones at you, you know?” You looked over at him, unzipping the plastic covering to inspect the dress you had picked out for the occasion.

You went simple, but something that still felt like you. A black sleeveless mock neck fitted dress that fell mid-thigh which you were going to pair with a red heels to signify your debut on Raw. Your mother had helped you pick it out a few weeks back and even left a special note strung around the hanger reading:

“Good luck on your first day, sweetie! Kill it and make her-story! - With love, mom”

Eddie snickered, easing up in your presence thankful that you weren’t so intimidating like your father. But Paul wasn’t all that bad. If anything he was the most decent employer he’d ever had, there just were a lot of expectations when it came to making sure the guy wasn’t under too much stress after his heart surgery.

“The dress totally breaks dress code, by the way. If this were any other company, you’d get a warning for indecency.” Eddie shook his head with a faux unimpressed frown on his face.

“Well by all means, let the slut shaming begin.” You giggled, wiggling your shoulders with a shimmy.

He scoffed begrudgingly, opening the bathroom door for you to head inside while he waited outside the door watching for any onlookers.

Fans had already begun finding their way to their seats while the crew finished setting up all the hard cameras and getting the visual prepped for the new graphics that would be displayed when your theme song hit.

Not only were the fans curious of Triple H’s special announcement, but so were the superstars who were caught off guard when producers went around letting everyone know that they would be up on stage for the broadcast.

Seth finished up in catering, making his way towards the nearest bathroom in order to douse his hair with some water prior to changing into his gear for the night. To his surprise, Triple H’s personal assistant Eddie was standing watch outside the door, prompting him to stop just a few feet away.

“Occupado?” Seth sought, to which Eddie nodded with a tight smile. “A quick outfit change,” He informed the superstar.

Seth assumed it was Paul, getting ready ahead of the big announcement. Lately the company had been on fire with him now in charge, giving all the superstars the work environment and creative freedom that they had been dying for. If it was something as big as a surprise that left talent in the dark, then it must have been legit.

The door pulled open from the inside and you fluffed your hair, striking a silly pose as you leaned against the doorframe. The two men turned their attention to you—Eddie bursting out into laughter, while Seth attempted to stifle his own.

“How do I look—oh! sorry, were you waiting long?” You immediately moved out of the way, an embarrassed red flush coming over your cheeks.

Seth shook his head and smiled, looking you up and down, “Nah, you’re fine. You look good by the way.”

“Thanks,” you smiled shyly, glancing over at Eddie who rose his brow at you, holding his arms out to take your folded clothing you once wore.

“Ready to go?” He asked, and you nodded, smoothing out your dress.

“Ready as ever.” You took a deep breath.

You timidly waved bye to Seth, keeping close to Eddie’s side trying to stay out of everyone’s way who were rushing through the halls trying to get ready for the show. Seth chuckled to himself, still wondering what your role was—editor? personal assistant? Surely, he’d find out soon enough.

“You’re going to do great, sucker-punch,” The country twang belonged to none other than Shawn Michaels who reassured you through the loud crowd roaring past the concrete walls.

He was your godfather and one of your dad’s bestest friends in the entire world who had come all the way to watch your big debut. He had been a constant in your life since you were a baby, and it was nice to have another father figure you could look up to, let alone work with down at NXT before your dad thought you were finally ready for the big leagues.

“I just wanna go over it again,” you took a deep breath rubbing your hands together nervously, and he nodded letting you go through the motions with him, “When I step out I pause for a few seconds then the cameras will follow behind me until I get through gorilla position?”

“Exactly that. The hard camera down the ramp will catch the first sight of you. Pause on your mark for a few seconds and when it feels right meet your dad in the ring.”

It was about the hundredth time you asked someone for clarification on the simple segment, but in your defense you were new to all of this and no matter how much confidence you had, you surely didn’t want to screw it up.

“We’re live in a minute and thirty.” The crew called out, making their final adjustments to their equipment.

Shawn gave you a pat on the knee.

“Trust yourself, you got this.”

You flashed him a nervous smile, nodding your head before he shut the limousine door shut, walking out of camera frame to watch from the sidelines.

“Places people!” You heard the crew shout, a stagehand counting down as the limo slowly began to drive forward just in time.

The superstars were lined up on stage, a mixture of Raw and SmackDown superstars in attendance for the special program. Triple H had kicked off the show, making his entrance through the sea of talent before getting into the ring mic in hand.

“I know all of you are wondering what my special announcement is…” He began, and the fans cheered loudly, chanting “yes!”

Paul nodded his head, pacing around the ring coolly, “WWE has entered a new era. And I am flattered to say that all of you have coined it the Paul Levesque Era, though I find it to be a little unoriginal I might say.” He joked lightly, giving the fans and talent a light-hearted laugh.

“But in all seriousness, my era had begun long ago when I forged NXT and cradled it like a baby until it learned how to walk on its own and give all of you some of the most talented and athletic superstars, some of which are standing on that very stage because of their own destiny to be here.”

He slung his arms over the ropes, jutting his chin out in respect to many of the talent whom he had the honor of working with since the beginning of their careers back in NXT, when no one realized what a monumental period it would be for them.

“Which brings me to my very special announcement. You see, I didn’t get here by not taking risks, by playing it safe and going for the sure plan. No, I got here because I see potential, and I am willing to put my money and reputation on the line to carry out the potential I see and make them stars.”

His words were partly a shoot, all the talent and fans aware of the heat that he had faced in the past from wrestling outlets who scrutinized his choices for prioritizing NXT instead of the main roster at the time.

“But I’ve always seen potential when it comes to one particular person. Someone who I think is not just riskier than me, but always takes the long shot, not for praise or notoriety, but because they know in their heart and soul that they can, and when they do, they will succeed.”

“It’s the kind of trait that is rare. One that few possess in this lifetime, which is why it is imperative to me that this individual gets a shot to show it to you themselves…” He gestured up to the titantron where a camera scurried behind a stretch limousine.

You sat back against the leather, doing your best to keep down the nerves as they rolled the live cameras. The driver came to a smooth stop, placing the vehicle in park before making their way out to open your door, allowing you enough space to stick your foot out first.

There was no turning back now. Everything that you had rehearsed and played over and over again in your head was being worked out on live television for all the fans sitting in attendance to see and more startling, the million watching at home to view.

You breathed in the foreign city air, taking it all in before your heels clicked against the concrete, the feeling of the crew trailing behind your every move. The voice in your head reminded you to keep up with the strides—everything from the talk and the walk, made your character and even now when the fans didn’t know your name or face, they could still understand you meant business just by the way you portrayed yourself.

The closer you got to gorilla, the louder the fans got and the realer it all felt. There was little time for you to acknowledge the crew of producers in gorilla, too busy keeping yourself together as your fingertips swept the curtains to the side and before you know it, your music blasted through the building.

Without needing to be told, the superstars split into halves once more, making way for the mystery woman to hit center mark and there the fans finally got to see who it was. Your name lit up on the big screen — the last name alone evoking ovations that were louder than you imagined you’d ever get.

You smirked, holding back on letting the happiness seep completely through. Making your way towards the ring after pausing for the hard camera, your father walked out towards the apron, holding on a hand for you to take before opening the ropes for you to step through.

He handed you a mic, your music slowly dying giving the fans a chance to settle their cheers so you could speak.

“My, my, my, you sure do know how to make a girl feel extra special on her Raw debut,” You charmed the crowd, looking around the stadium full of fans who were on their feet.

“My father Triple H told me that you all are some of the most electrifying fans in the entire world and I can confidently say that he wasn’t kidding.” You looked over towards your dad, who grinned and clapped for you.

“Now I know my presence may come as a surprise, but I can assure you all that I do not mean to do any harm. In fact, my dad is still the big boss around here, but he did mention needing a little bit of help running the place, and I figured with my history and family name I might as well take a shot and give it a go?”

Again the crowd erupted in cheers, happy to see the legends lineage continuing with a new generation that would surely take after her father’s creative outlook.

“You see, I’ve watched this company thrive and flourish into a league of its own. But I’ve also watched it slip through the cracks and make mistakes that would have never happened under my watch. The evolution of this company lies within the palm of my hands and I will not let the slip-ups of the past come in the way of me fulfilling the prophecy of taking this company to new heights.”

You pointed to the stage, where the superstars looked rather impressed by your words.

“So please join me in ushering in the Levesque Era.” You stared into the hard camera with a broad smile, dropping the mic as your music hit once more.

Your father lifted your arm up, circling around every side of the ring, pointing at you proudly, cherishing the moment. He helped you out of the ring, hooking your arm through his as you two walked up the ramp. A few talents exchanging gracious smiles with you as you brushed past them and headed towards the back.

“Holy shit!” You screeched, finally breaking character and covering your face in elation.

Your dad immediately pulled you into a hug, giving you your first pat on your back with the company. It was safe to say he was way more emotional than you, happiness seeping out in tears of joy, while you still struggled to fathom the paradigm shift of your career.

“Now that’s how you deliver your first promo, sucker-punch.” Shawn snuck up from behind you, pulling you into a proud hug making you laugh.

Gorilla quickly began filling with the superstars, heading backstage before the first match started. A bunch of them stuck around to get a turn to meet you, or as they nicknamed you, the ‘heiress’ which you found comical.

You stuck around for a good chunk of the show, keeping your dad company where he sat at the monitors, now and then turning to you as he showed you a few of the different aspects that he handled on live shows. Surely you would eventually get a thorough rundown of future tasks, but your dad wanted you to focus on being a part of the creative team and main roster.

Towards the ending of the show, you parted ways with your dad saying goodbye to him as he would be staying a few hours after holding some meetings with the crew while you got to get some much needed rest at the hotel.

Strolling down to your office, you were stopped by a blonde woman excited to meet you. You had recognized her immediately—Renee Young who was a backstage interviewer.

“Oh, it’s so nice to meet you!” You bubbled, sticking your hand out to introduce yourself.

She beamed, shaking her head at you with astonishment, “The second you came out, I knew immediately, like, ‘this has to me Paul’s daughter’ and then when you started speaking…” she paused, eyes widening as you giggled, “I was like ‘yeah, this is Paul and Steph’s daughter!’ it comes to you so naturally!”

“Thank you so much, you have no idea what that means to me,” You said thankfully opening your arms and pulling her into a small but mighty hug, “I was honestly so nervous, I’m surprised I didn’t croak out there.”

Renee shook her head, resting a warm hand on your shoulder. “You did amazing, and you’re only going to get better the more you do it.”

You and her chit-chatted for a couple of minutes before a male figure strolled up to her side, slinging his arm around her tenderly. She looked up at him, patting his chest and pointing to you.

“Nice first impression you’re sending to our future boss,” she joked, making you giggle.

He looked at you, realization crossing over his face and he swiftly stuck out a hand towards you.

“Shit, I’m Dean. Sorry m’all sweaty. Just finished a match and all.”

You shook your head, reassuring him as you shook his hand.

“Don’t worry about throwing me off. I personally think the whole wrestler's dress code thing is dumb. I’ve seen your stuff on TV a bunch before…great match by the way.”

“Oh thanks,” He nodded with a grin, happy that you weren’t on the uptight side of the company.

You learned that Dean and Renee had been together for years, tying the knot in secrecy a few years ago at their home in Nevada. Your father had worked closely with them before their debut on the main roster—Dean working in FCW before it became NXT, and Renee starting backstage at developmental before your dad requested to have her brought up to be an addition to the crew.

“Mr. Monday Night!” Renee hollered, looking past you towards the figure who was strolling down the hallway.

You turned your head over your shoulder, smiling at the man who came closer immediately taking notice of you. This time around he was dressed in gear, his match for the night already wrapped, and he was heading to the locker rooms to get changed.

“Hey you,” you grinned, sharing a knowing, playful look with Seth that Renee and Dean couldn’t decipher.

Your eyes twinkled with amusement and his face held a mischievous smile that tugged at the corners of his lips.

“Have I seen you around before?” Seth joked, raising a brow at you suspiciously.

Your shoulders rose with a casual shrug, your hands plopping into your lap as you both burst into laugher, echoing in the halls. There was an ease to you both, the kind that made you forget all about the nervousness that you felt at the beginning of the night when scripts scattered across the same ground you both stood on.

“How was my first day?” You proposed, anticipating what he had to say.

“I’m still recovering after butchering my first encounter with the leading lady herself…” Seth admitted, rubbing at his chest sheepishly, sucking in a sharp breath, “but you killed it…you are a complete natural, Ms. Levesque.” He emphasized your last name with a playful smirk.

You nodded thankfully, before waving your hands in the air a kind of tender scolding at the formalness.

“Please, the only people who call me that are people who are afraid of my dad.”

“Ms. Levesque…”

You turned your head toward the familiar voice. Eddie who stood off to the side with your bags and luggage in hand. The three broke into laughter at his formal address towards you, aware that it was merely out of respect, but perhaps also a touch of intimidation by your father.

“We have a car out back ready to take you back to the hotel. All your belongings are here.” Eddie informed you.

You nodded, smiling gratefully at him for going out of his way to carry out a kind gesture like that. Sure, it was probably at your father’s request, but Eddie knowing you for as long as he did, knew you would refuse any kind of help if he didn’t do it himself.

“It was nice meeting you guys…and you again, Mr. Monday Night.” You twiddled your fingers in a playful wave.

“See you around soon,” Seth chuckled, giving you a warm smile that lingered as you walked away.

You took hold of your bags, Eddie rolling your luggage behind him as he lead you to the parking garage where the driver was waiting.

“You two know each other?” Dean rose his brows, looking closely at his friend.

“Barely. I just ran into her before the show and thought she was on the crew.” Seth explained, his eyes still following you as you walked further down the hall.

“She didn’t introduce herself?” Dean pressed, curiosity evident in his voice.

“She did,” Seth looked over back at the pair, “She just left out her last name.”

“Probably didn’t want to be the center of attention.” Renee suspected with a shrug, turning her attention back to Dean and their plans for the rest of the night.

Seth watched you stop a few feet down the hall to shake hands with a few of the crew and members of creative. Your smile was warm and genuine as you quickly said your thank you’s for their kind words and wished them a goodnight. Finally, you were ushered down another turn, disappearing from his view.

He could get used to having you around. He just wondered if you would get used to being the shiny new star in their world.

💌 reblogs, tags, comments, + likes are greatly appreciated! leave a comment and let me know if want to be added to my taglist!! 💌

a/n: if you made it this far, i hope you liked chapter one of icsy!!! i truly had the best time writing this chapter and i feel like you guys are going to love whats to come! perhaps seth and reader are masterminds to their very core huh? we'll find out soon enough!!!

[strangerstilinski]

eddie the hero

summary; the holidays bring about daddy issues of the decidedly un-sexy variety, but eddie is a total sweetheart and a goofball to boot. (this is very self indulgent.) 2.6k warnings; some angst but a very very fluffy end, trauma from overly-critical parents, eddie being sweet, some blood, a brief anxiety attack maybe?, i think reader is written gn (eddie refers to reader as a fair maiden but like jokingly? so do with that what you will) a/n; turns out, a combination of being home for the holidays and listening to mean by miss swift on the drive out brought up, uh... this. shout out to my dad for being himself over this holiday season, and shoutout ruby for very delicately insisting (repeatedly) that i get my shit together and simply.. make something of this trauma dump. so here it is; a wee bit of angst with lots of fluff to round it all out.

The kitchen is in chaos.

You've got about a hundred different things going at once in an effort to get everything ready for the holiday dinner that you and Eddie agreed to host. The smell of cinnamon from your morning baking endeavors still lingers in the air, though it's slowly being overtaken by rosemary and and the earthy scent of fresh vegetables. The hair at the nape of your neck is beginning to feel a bit stifling with heat from the oven already warming house, and you make a mental note to crack a window once your friends and family begin trickling in.

It's a little overwhelming, but you're doing your best to get what you've deemed the more detailed-oriented aspects of preparation done while Eddie is busy in the shower.

You intend to be finished by the time he's done getting ready. A mental plan has been laid out. You'll have the knife in your hand washed and dried and put away before he even emerges from the bathroom— no problem.

There was a problem though: you hadn't been quick enough.

You're in a zone of sorts. So much so, that you don't notice the footfalls of your boyfriend making his way down the hallway toward the kitchen. When he speaks from the doorway, his voice takes you completely by surprise.

"What are you doing?" Eddie's voice is soft as ever, though you're unable to process the gentle innocence in the tone of his question.

The realization that you've been caught has the heat in the kitchen very suddenly feeling entirely too warm. Your collar is entirely too tight around your neck while your mind whirls with sudden anxiety.

It's as if Eddie is no longer there. Instead, your ears are filled with the echo of your father's voice, the condescension in his tone ringing sharply in your skull.

"What are you doing?"

"Why are you doing it like that?"

"It's not that hard, bud. Just do it like this and it'll be better. How many times do I have to tell you-"

His voice would toe the line between irritated and amused, narrowed eyes making you feel a fool. It would prompt a frustrated prickle behind your own eyes and a tightness in your jaw when he'd show you the way you should've been doing it in the first place.

You heart races now with that unhealed scab of your father's never ending dissatisfaction. His impossible standards. His mean little digs and criticisms that masqueraded as him merely wanting you to be better.

Because you could always be better.

Growing up it was sports, your effort in school, it was the way you putted in mini golf, it was 'why on earth would you not dry the glasses when you washed dishes? That's just stupid because now they'll air dry with spots and-' From there began the slow evolution into the way that you drove your car, the way you spent money, how often you called and what time of day you called when you did..

Nothing you did was enough. In his eyes, there here was always something wrong, something that could be improved.

It's entirely possible that the stress of the holiday is getting to you already, if the way you've very quickly begun to spiral is any indication. And though there's nothing more than curiosity in your boyfriend's question, the familiarity of it makes you flinch nonetheless.

It happens in a flash. The paring knife in your grip slips and the blade slices the edge of your thumb instead of the potato you'd been getting prepped for boiling. A sharp sting that you barely notice. The sight of the blood that pools quick from the shallow cut has your ears ringing, Eddie's soft curses sounding muffled when they curl at your ears. It's a bit like you're underwater, sounds eerily distorted and brain fuzzy with the heavy beat of your heart.

"Sorry—"

It comes out as nothing more than a murmur under your breath. With a slight delay, you have the foresight to move your hand from above the bowl of already sliced and cleaned potatoes. Wrist now clutched to your chest, you zero in on the drops of blood that have already stained a few of them, red bleeding into the starchy whiteness.

"S-sorry, I just-"

Your voice is shaking as Eddie grabs a kitchen towel, his hands gently cradling your own and dabbing the towel at the cut so he can examine the severity of your injury. His brows are furrowed beneath the wispy curtain of his wet bangs, brown eyes wide with worry. His fingers are free of their normal assortment of rings, likely because he'd come out with the intent of helping you cook. Your eyes flick between his bare fingers and his shower-damp hair, between the roundness of his chin and the frown pulling at his lips — guilt pools heavily in your gut at the sight.

"I shouldn't 've been using a knife anyway, but I couldn't find the peeler s-so I just used the knife. I-I know it wastes more of the potato, I know that's not-" Your breath comes out trembling, your whole body wracking with it as your eyes prickle and burn with embarrassment. Your words come quicker, panicked, "I just wanted to get them done so I could get them in the water and start on the beans, but now I-"

"Hey, hey, hey," Eddie soothes, wide palm coming up to your flushed face where his thumb drags slow over the apple of your cheek while his other hand works to secure the dish towel in your fist to stop the bleeding, "Breathe, sweetheart. You're okay."

"I'm sorry," You whisper, voice thick with tears, "Was s' stupid, I'm sorry-"

"Baby.. Baby, hey-" His voice is soft. He squares his shoulders and follows your movement as he tries to meet your eye, brown finally connecting with shining pools that threaten to spill over. The pad of his thumb catches the first drop the moment that it breaks free, smoothing the moisture along your skin as he repeats the slow back and forth motion over your cheek. "The cut's not bad, it's not very deep.. What's going on, sweet thing? What's got you so worked up?"

Your next breath catches and it has your whole body quaking when it eventually whooshes out of your chest, a pitiful little sniffle escaping you in response to the sudden influx of tears.

"I- I was doing it wrong. I know- And then I- I got blood all over the potatoes-"

"We can wash the potatoes." Eddie says all too easily, though his voice still has that anxious edge to it that does nothing to make you feel better.

"We can.. We can wash the potatoes.." You repeat cautiously, as if the thought hadn't yet occurred to you.

"Yeah, baby. We can wash the potatoes." He echoes gently.

A shaky breath falls past your lips as you nod, "Sorry." You say again.

"I'm sorry," He insists with a shake of his head, "I came in here like a bat outta hell while you were holding a knife, and I scared you into hurting yourself. I was just- Potatoes we're supposed to be one'a my jobs. And, uh-" A grimacing excuse of a smile pulls at his lips, his eyes drifting to the discarded knife that lay at the bottom of the sink, "Well.. You couldn't find the peeler because it's in the dishwasher-"

You have to fight back a sigh at his admission, "Eddie-" You admonish weakly.

"I know, I know. It's not dishwasher safe. I know that, I do," Eddie says in a rush, "You've told me a million times, I just forget in the moment. I'm sorry, sweetheart. I'm sorry."

His earnest apology has you reeling a bit. The fact that Eddie's instinct is not just to apologize, but also to explain away his mistake with guilt dripping heavy from his words-

You suddenly feel a bit like a monster. A cruel, perfection-driven bully of your father's creation. It has a fresh wave of tears pooling in your eyes and threatening to well over.

"God," The word comes out a choked sounding thing, buried beneath the tightness in your throat, "I'm sorry, Eddie. It's not a big deal, really, 's just a peeler. If the dishwasher ruins it we'll just buy another one for, like, a dollar."

"Yeah?" Eddie treads, a cautious smile pulling at the corner of his mouth while his thumb continues to drag soft over the wetness spread across your cheekbone.

"Yeah," You sniffle around the word, panic and realization settling in and promoting your chest to heave with quick breaths, "Jesus. Y-You shouldn't be worried about my reaction to something so.. So stupid. Fuck. I- I'm just like him-"

"Woah, woah, woah. Baby, hey.. Just like who?" Eddie interrupts with a renewed sense of urgency, "What're you talkin' about?"

"My dad-" You sob, shoulders trembling with it.

"Oh, baby, hey. Hey-"

In a flash, Eddie is guiding your head into the crook of his neck, wetness transferring onto his skin as a dam breaks and your body trembles with a series of heavy sobs. You slot into the space below his jaw just as perfectly as you always do, the two of you fitting together like puzzle pieces.

He smells like shaving cream and the conditioner you'd bought him especially for curly hair. The combination of the rich masculine scent on his skin with the sweet citrusy perfume clinging to his damp hair makes your head spin as you try valiantly to follow his soft demands for you to calm down.

His voice rumbles soft over your ear as he shushes you, his lips pressing a gentle kiss to your temple all the while. The towel wrapped around your fist tightens when Eddie's bigger hand encases your own, a slow sway overtaking your body as he urges your weight to shift from foot to foot in a soothing motion. He rocks you back and forth, your socked feet shuffling against the kitchen tile, your boyfriend's chest pressed tight to your own.

A wide palm smooths up and down your spine, a tune that sounds distantly familiar rumbling over your ear when Eddie begin to hum softly into your hair.

A minute passes, shuddering breaths come and less, the heaving of your chest and the tears in your eyes settling until each sniffle feels more embarrassing than anything else. A weak laugh bubbles up from your throat as you hone in on your boyfriend's socked feet nudging at yours with every shift side to side, your fist tightening around the blood-stained towel for a moment before you're hooking your own fingers around the back of his hand, palms clasped together.

"'re we slow dancing right now?" You ask a bit breathlessly, finally lifting your head from the curve of his neck to peer up at his with swollen, reddened eyes.

"Mhm," Eddie hums and drops his forehead against your own. That hand on your spine hikes you up against him, air forced from your lungs and another bubbling laugh pushed up your throat.

"You trying to woo me, Munson?" Your tease comes out a bit raspy from all of the crying, but you watch a grin pull at his lips regardless.

"Why?" Big brown eyes flick between your own, a little cross-eyed with how close your faces sit, "S'it working?"

You bring your free hand up to curl around the back of his neck, fingers slipping beneath his wet curls to ensure his forehead doesn't leave yours.

"It might be.." The words come out in a murmur.

You're feeling a bit mesmerized by his proximity, even after all this time. A sudden spin from your boyfriend has you stumbling over your feet, the only thing keeping you from losing your balance completely being the steadying hand that quickly finds a place on your hip and slides back to the base of your spine.

"It might be?" Eddie repeats with a scoff, "Oh, it might be, you say." A small huff of laughter escapes you and puffs out against his chin as he continues on, "Well I guess I'll just have to up the ante then, won't I? What shall I do, my fair maiden? What is it you desire? I could finish this lovely holiday dinner by myself, provide thee with sustenance-"

It's you who scoffs this time, "Right, hilarious. Our friends and Wayne will be here in less than two hours-"

"Or perhaps I'll wait until nightfall, pluck a star straight from the sky for you. Because what other courting gift could be better suited for a maiden who shines so bright-"

"Eddie," You can't help but laugh at his dramatics. The drying tear streaks on your cheeks are long forgotten now, the ridiculous man in front of you is nothing if not an expert in getting your whole attention focused on him.

"No. No, you're right. That couldn't possibly be enough to prove my endless love and devotion," He makes a show of shaking his head as he releases you from his hold and takes a step back. A sidestep has him bumping into the sink basin, a wide grin already pulling at his lips. "But this!" He announces as he snatches the bloody paring knife from the sink with a flourish, "This cursed object! Laced with evil, I'm sure! This blade that has brought harm upon you!"

You watch Eddie dispose of the knife with a smile pulling at your lips, and you only spare a small wince at the fleeting worry that it might tear through the plastic bag lining the inside of the garbage can. Eddie drops to his knees in a flash, dark denim coming into contact with the kitchen tile at your feet. His hands grip at the backs of your thighs as he looks up at you with wide eyes, the brown pools swimming with mischief and humor and love.

"-It is dealt with, my dear. It will never hurt you again. This I swear-"

The blood-stained towel falls to the floor as you take his head in your hands, carefully avoiding the drying cut on your thumb. You're swallowing down laughter as you guide him to his feet again. Your heart feels full enough to burst, and Eddie's expression of faux-seriousness is almost enough to push a giggle from your lips.

"Oh, my hero," You whisper with all of the dramatisation you can manage, "My big, handsome savior. Whatever would I have done without you here to protect me? How can I ever thank you?"

Eddie brings his palms up to your cheeks in a flash, and you know it must be a ridiculous sight. The current disaster zone that is the kitchen; ingredients lining every available inch of countertop space, a pot of salted water very nearly boiling on the stovetop, and the two of you standing at the center of it all — cradling one another's faces with all the care in the world.

Brown eyes flick slow over your face, the freckles on the bridge of Eddie's nose catching your attention all the while.

"One million kisses." He proposes.

A laugh does escape you now, though it's a giddy one, slightly flustered by just how sweet the man before you is. Your cheeks feel warm with it as your uninjured thumb drags soft over his cheek.

"One million?"

"One hundred million!" He counters immediately.

"One hundred million?" You repeat in disbelief, "Now, what's a guy like you going to do with one hundred million kisses should I give them to you?"

"Maybe you're right. Let's not get ahead of ourselves," Eddie nods valiantly, "We could start with just one, and work our way up."

"That sounds more than reasonable," Your cheeks are beginning to ache with your smile.

You push up onto your toes to brush your lips over his, scarcely touching. But when Eddie pushes forward, you rock back in an easy move, your mouth remaining just out of his reach.

"I am going to need that knife to finish dinner though," You whisper, the hushed words rushing over his lips in one breath, "The others are too dull-"

"Consider it retrieved and washed," Eddie says easily, "As soon as I get my kiss-"

It ends up being more smile than kiss, in the end, but there will be millions more to make up for it.